The Best Laid Plans
by SilverKitsune1
Summary: Not even the best laid plans are flawless, and when Ritchie disrupts the plans of a criminal things quickly go from bad to worse.
1. Disruption

Title:  The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Authors Note- I really don't have a specific place in the series for this thing, but let's just say it's before Ritchie became Gear.

Part 1

Derrick Larsen didn't believe in bank robbery. Not in the traditional sense anyway. He had been the witness of over 10 attempted bank robberies in the 18 years that he had spent living in Dakota City, and even as a child he'd realized that the men and women who pulled masks over their faces and strutted though crowded banks waving guns and demanding money were morons. Bank robbery was sloppy, cliché, and nine times out of ten led to an arrest.  

The problem, he'd decided one day as he'd day dreamed through biology, doodling instead of taking notes, was that people aimed too high. They wanted to get their hands on the largest amount of cash they could in the shortest amount of time. They bit off more then they could chew and ended up chocking on it. It had gotten to the point where seeing or reading about any sort of criminal in action was always funny. They all left such gaping raw holes in their plans, holes that Derrick could detect the same way a good chess player could detect his opponent's next move. The places where these weaknesses lurked were whispered to him, and he could weed them out, fix them, make them strong and whole until he had woven an entirely flawless plan out in his brain.  The only key ingredient that you really needed was patience, something everyone around him happened to be lacking. 

It was through his philosophy of patience that he had come up with a way to attain the cash the bank took in everyday. But Derrick would not be following in the clumsy, fast paced footsteps of his predecessors; would not take on the entire bank itself. Instead he aimed for things that were a bit smaller. Namely, cash machines. 

Cash machines, if you knew how to do it right, were always the best targets. If you only took a small amount it took people at least a day to notice that it was gone. You hit enough of them, squirreled away half of what you'd stolen, and in a few months you were rolling in cash. His people only did it once a month, always at a different bank, in a different part of town chosen at random. Tracy, a small, quick Asian girl who cops would never have looked twice at was always his right hand.  Smarter than anyone he had ever met, she was a genius with machines, and always managed to cut out any camera or alarms that might have stood in their way. Aden, a large guy with red hair shaved close to his head who, had he bothered to stay in school, would have had football coaches begging him onto their teams. Smarter then most gave him credit for on account of his size, Aden was a good guy to have on your side, even if he was a freaking chatterbox. Last was always Carlos, a good look out whose sharp eyes never missed anything.         

It was unusually early when they began that night, only 2 AM, but the cash machine on the corner of Perperdine Ave was a hard one. It would be the third one they had broken into, and while there had been enough time in-between each robbery for the police to get bored and move onto a more active criminal it didn't mean that caution wasn't going to be taken. Derrick was not going to end up in a cell; he planned too carefully for that.  

The camera already knocked out, and the censors and alarms disengaged by Tracy's handy work, Derrick was hard at work on his part of the plan, cracking the machine open.

He was half way there, a few more moments and they would have had it, when he heard his name being called.

"Derrick," Carlos hissed from the shadows of the alley where he had been placed as a look out. "Jesus –OW. Derrick!"

His head jerked up, and Derrick let his hand ghost over his bag of tools that lay at his feet ready to bolt.

"Cops?" He asked.

"No," Carlos appeared from the shadows, looking angry but still attentive, as he dragged a young blond teenager out from behind him. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around the torso of the teenager, the other held the boys wrist at a painful angle.

"He was sneaking around the building for a closer look," Carlos said sharply. "I grabbed him before he could get too far."

The blond teenager grimaced as Carlos tightened his hold, but didn't stop from struggling to free one of his arms.

"Let go of me," he demanded. "Hey man, do you have to hold on so tight?"

"Found this on him," Carlos said tossing a wallet.

Flipping it open, Derrick was greeted by a grinning student Dakota Union High School ID.

"Richard Foley," he read out loud. "Sophomore."

"People actually call me Ritchie," the kid said.

"Shut up," Derrick snapped. He had not seen this weakness in his plans, and it made him angrier then he would have thought. 

"What do we do with him?" asked Aden who was peering around Derrick to get a better look.

"We'll have to-"

"Cop!" 

Tracy's sharp warning broke through Derrick's thoughts and four heads snapped in the direction of her pointed finger. 

"Shit," Aden said.

Ritchie had also seen the slowly creeping police car, and with a lunge tried to pull away from Carlos.

"HEL-"

The rest of his cry was silenced quickly by Carlos who had slapped his hand over the younger boy's mouth, and dragged him back into the alleyway they had just appeared from.

"Scatter," Derrick hissed back to Tracy and Aden before lunging down the same alleyway. Now hidden by the shadows, he went over to help Carlos restrain the kid who was twisting like a wild cat.

Ritchie Foley may have been a skinny 15 year old, but he was putting up a hell of a fight. Carlos had nearly lost his grip on him when Derrick pulled his fist back and punched the kid in the solar plexus. Ritchie doubled over in a low muffled moan, his glasses sliding down to the very tip of his nose. 

The police car had slowed to a stop a few feet away from the cash machine, and a door opened and shut with a click. Derrick could hear footsteps heading in their direction.

"Derrick," Carlos whispered a bit panicked. "Derrick the bag."

His bag! He'd left the bag of tools out on the pavement.

"Get back to the van," he whispered to Carlos.

"What about him?"

"Bring him with. I'll figure out what to do with him later."


	2. Discovery

Title:  The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Part 2

Virgil was in Hell. That was the only explanation. There was no other place in the world that would force him to stay awake when he was this tired besides Hell.  Funny that Hell happened to look an awful lot like his first period history classroom. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

"Good morning Virgil."

Daisy's voice penetrated through the fog of weariness that surrounded his brain, and he grunted in response.

"Aren't we chipper this morning?" she said with a laugh.

"Did you just use the word 'chipper'?" Virgil mumbled back not raising his head up from where it lay on his desk.

Daisy punched his shoulder lightly and slid into the empty seat next to him.

"Don't tell me you didn't get any sleep," she said. "Did you stay up all night playing video games again? I thought you learned your lesson after the Final Fantasy X disaster."

Cracking one eye open, he raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. 

"Hey that game deserved my insomnia. How could you have possibly expected me to sleep when SIN was destroying the world?"

"Virgil, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shaking his head in mock disgust, he let his eyes close again.

He did wish that this exhaustion had come from pulling an all-nighter in front of his Playstation. That at least would have been relaxing, and come to think of it, his characters in Kingdom Hearts really _did _need to be leveled up, but what he had done instead was patrol. All night. Alone. To be fair Ritchie had tagged along for the first few hours, but when it became clear that nothing was going to be happening that night, his friend had pleaded fatigue and turned in early. Virgil would have done the same, would have loved to give up on crime fighting for the night and collapse into bed, except that for the anxious feeling that had set up shop in his bones. Like an annoying little itch that only got worse the more he scratched it.   It had made him so sure that something was going to happen that night, and as a result had kept him up flying around the city of Dakota in search of trouble. 

Much to his disappointment, and annoyance the trouble that he had been waiting for turned out to be nothing more than someone's failed attempt at breaking into the cash machine on Peperdine Ave. By the time he'd gotten there the police had taken over, and the perpetrator was long gone. Virgil had finally given up after that and headed home, crawling into bed just as the sun was coming up, and only managing to grab an hour of sleep before Sharon had come pounding on his door shrieking that she was going to kill him if he was late. He sort of wished she had.

"So where's Ritchie?" Daisy asked glancing over to the empty desk to Virgil's left. "He's usually here by now."

Virgil shrugged in response. He bet Ritchie had managed to get out of first period by pretending he'd been up late finishing up a paper for school, and beseeching his dad to call him in so he could get an extra hour of sleep. It was something Virgil's father would never had done, no matter how much he might have begged, and he was tired enough to feel a twinge of bitterness at the thought. Who was the hard working super hero around here anyway? If he was awake enough by fifth period he'd give Ritchie a hard time about it during lunch.

First period turned into second, second to third. History then Biology, English with Daisy and then finally only one last period before blessed, blessed lunch.  By the time the fifth period bell had rung, Virgil felt as though five years had passed instead of just five hours.  Too tired to even look at food, he nestled his head into his arms and tried to nap. It would be a short lived nap, at any moment he expected to be dragged back into the land of the living by Ritchie's standard greeting of, "Hey V, what's up?" but even five minutes of quiet would be worth it and with a sigh he closed his eyes.

It was the bells warning that fifth period was coming to a close that woke him up. Blinking owlishly, he looked around at the groups of students who were gathering together books and backpacks before scrambling off to their next classes, and feeling a bit disoriented gave his head a shake. There was no sign of a blond haired, glasses wearing teenager.

_That jerk._

Virgil thought with no real anger.

_He took the whole freaking day off._

The house had never looked so beautiful, the rooms had never seemed so welcoming, and the couch had never felt softer.  

"Attention ladies and gentlemen," he murmured softly to himself. "This is your captain speaking, our one way flight from Hell to Heaven is now coming to an end. Please fasten your seat belts, put the tray tables in their up-right positions, and remember to thank your local super hero."

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Virgil stretched his arms high above his head, and with a yawn burrowed deeper into the cushions.

He would sleep for a year, he decided. No, two years, three if he felt like it, and nothing short of a nuclear holocaust was going to get him to move from this couch any time soon.

"Hey Virgil phone for you!!"

Screw Heaven, screw Hell there was no God.

"Awww man," he groaned burying his head into the cushions.

"Virgil come on, pick up the phone!!"

"All right all right," he grumbled extracting himself from the warm cushions and reaching for the phone. 

"I GOT IT!" he yelled back up the stairs as he cradled the phone against his shoulder.

"Hello."

"Hello Virgil."

The voice at the end of the line was deep, a bit scratchy and happened to belong to Ritchie's father. The feeling of annoyance Virgil had felt on getting his nap interrupted was quickly replaced by discomfort. As much as Ritchie's dad had gone through a change of heart over the last year or so, being around a man who had hated him at first simply because of the color of his skin always made him a little uncomfortable.

"Um, hi Mr. Foley."

"Virgil is Ritchie there?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and Virgil adjusted the phone as he raised himself into a sitting position.

"I know you two got together last night," Mr. Foley continued. "But I didn't hear him come in and I didn't see him before I went to work today. I'm leaving for a business trip tonight, and I wanted to make sure he was in one piece before I left."

"No," Virgil said his voice uneasy. "No, he's not here."

"Hmm, all right. Well he's probably around. If he happens to stop by tell him I want him to come home, I'd really like to see him before I leave."

"No problem Mr. Foley," Virgil said.

"Bye then."

"Bye."

Slowly replacing the phone into its cradle, Virgil let out a long breath. Ritchie wasn't home, didn't sound like he'd gotten there last night at all, and he hadn't been at school either. 

Sleep now forgotten, Virgil leapt up from the couch and thundered up the stairs. Ignoring the yelp Sharon let out when he almost barreled into her, he made a bee line for his room closing the door with a bang before digging out his Static Shock costume from hiding. Sleep could come later. Right now he had a best friend to find.


	3. Lethe

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Part 3

Authors Note: O.K, I want to thank Auro, the Saint of Oddity, and WildfireFriendship for reviewing my fic. :Big Wave: Thanks guys! 

If he could have just left it alone and quit tonguing it, Derrick bet that his lower lip would have stopped bleeding at least two hours ago.  Chewing at his lower lip whenever he was stressed or frustrated was a bad habit he had had ever since he was five, and the fact that last night one of the blows the Foley kid had landed had split it wide open was not helping matters.  Along with the bleeding lip, Derrick was also sporting a black eye, courtesy of a well placed elbow, and probably would have been aching from even more annoyances if the kid hadn't taken a swing at Tracy. She may have been a small girl, but she was also a demon in a fight and most people in the neighborhood avoided physical contact with her at all costs. The Foley kid's panicked swing at her nose had earned him a punch to the jaw, and a trip into oblivion. It had made the ride back to the house a lot easier. 

The four members of Derrick's small gang spent most of their time in an old run down warehouse found in one of Dakotas 'bad' parts of town, though the lines that divide the bad and good parts of town were getting harder to draw everyday. The dilapidated building only went up three floors, and the top was so run down and dangerous that it was avoided all together, but it was dry when it rained and while they wouldn't have said it kept them warm in the winter it almost keep them from freezing to death, so they stayed. They fought off anyone else who might have tried to move in because it was their territory, and it was here that they had brought the unconscious form of Ritchie Foley.

It was this kid, currently tied up, blindfolded, gagged and sitting the corner on the second floor, who happened to be the reason behind Derrick turning his lip into a meal. It was late afternoon, almost three o'clock, and they had had the kid here for 12 hours but he was still unsure on what to do with him. A plan simply refused to form in his mind, and no matter how many times he had run the problem over, passing the thought from palm to palm, none of its secret weaknesses would show themselves. 

The others weren't helping.

_"We should just kill him,"_ Tracy's had said right away. _"We've worked too hard for this to get messed up by some idiot kid."_

 Before Derrick could tell her why that was exactly what they were not going to do Carlos had jumped in. 

_"Are you out of your mind, girl? Do you know how long they put you away for murder?"_

_"Who says we'd get caught?"_ she'd snapped back.

_"Who says I want to become a murderer?"_

Derrick had ended the argument. They weren't going to kill this kid, not if they could help it, but they couldn't let him go. His plans had been going much too well to do something stupid like that, but they'd hit a stale mate. 

Running a hand through his hair, he gave himself a metal shake and pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, and his knees gave a painful crack when he knelt down in front of the kid. 

"Wake up," he demanded shaking the kid's shoulder roughly.

There was a small stir and the blond head lifted up.

"You thirsty?"

There was a pause, and then a nod. Reaching behind the kids head, Derrick undid the gag, shoved the scarf into his pocket and then unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water. He left the blindfold on.

_"Why even bother with that?" Carlos had asked when __Aden__ had first tied it. "It's not like he doesn't already know what we look like."_

_"But he doesn't know where he is, or even how many of us there are, and we are going to keep it that way," Derrick had responded._

The kid open and closed his mouth a few times, moving his jaw and taking a few deep breaths that he couldn't have managed to get before.

"You start yelling and I'm going to smack you around again," Derrick warned.

Holding the kid's chin, he tipped the bottle to his lips and let him drink. When he'd finished, Derrick recapped it and waiting in silence. Foley's tong darted out licking his dry lips, grateful for the moment of comfort the water had brought.  They were the only two in the building now, he'd sent the others out hoping the silence would give him a chance to think, and the quiet was almost unnerving. 

"Did you break my glasses?" Foley asked suddenly. 

"What?"

"My glasses," Foley said again. "What did you do with them?"

Aden had handed the thin metal frames to him when they had first brought Foley in, and not thinking he had shoved them into his jacket pocket.

"They're fine."

The kid nodded, and then didn't say anything until Derrick made a move to retie the gag. When his hand brushed the back of his head Foley pulled back sharply.

"You don't-," he stammered. "I mean, I won't say anything. You don't have to put that thing back on. I'll be quiet I swear."

Derrick paused, thinking it over. 

"You're gunna be quite?" he asked a little sarcastically. 

"Scouts honor," Foley responded.

Derrick shoved the scarf back into his pocket.

"You make one sound and I'll break your nose."

There was no response.

Derrick leaned back and sat cross legged, glad to get out of the uncomfortable kneeling position.

"What's so important about the damn glasses?" he asked wanting to kill time, and hoping that a little conversation might loosen up an idea.

"I can hardly see without them," Foley responded. "I already lost a pair last week, and my dad will freak if I lose another one."

Derrick grunted in response, his fingers drumming across the dust covered floor. His dad would freak out if he lost his glasses? Depending on what kind of man Ritchie Foley had gotten as a father there may already be a freak out in progress as a result of his missing son, and that thought made him sigh in frustration. They couldn't kill the kid. If he had been a nobody, a bum in an alley, or even an older adult, it would have been less of a problem. People were always more active when it came to missing kids, and this kid had a family, went to high school, and any investigation for a missing 15 year old would have more cops around the neighborhood then there already was. He didn't need that. 

Derrick had briefly flirted with the idea of beating him up, then letting him go with the threat of more to come if he said anything, but it was too risky. Foley didn't know much, but he knew their names and had at least a general idea of what they looked like, which was enough to make him a threat, and the gang still had at least three more machines to hit. Each machine would take a month of planning each, and because of last nights set back it might be even longer than that. 

His knee had fallen asleep, and Derrick shifted positions ignoring the pins and needles that filled up his leg.

What he did know was that he couldn't keep him here. Given enough time he was afraid Tracy or Aden might take matters into their own hands.  He and Carlos might not want to kill him, but Derrick would bet that if enough time went by even the two of them would be reconsidering their positions. 

"I have friends here," Foley said once again breaking the silence. "A family, they'll notice if I just disappear."

"This is Dakota," Derrick said sharply unnerved that the kid had voiced what he had been thinking. "People disappear everyday."

Pushing himself up, he grabbed the water bottle and headed for the stairs. They creaked and moaned as he descended, and he was grateful to be moving farther away from the source of his problems. 

He reached the last step just as Aden entered the building. The large young man was smiling and looking pleased with him self and at the sight of Derrick began to cross the room.

"Hey Derrick," he called his voice booming. "I've got the solution to our problem."

He held up a small white paper envelope as if it were a trophy he had just won in a boxing match, his grin wide.

Derrick crossed the room in a few quick strides and took the envelope, holding it between his fingers.

"How the hell is heroin going to help us?" he snapped. "You know I don't do this shit."

"It's not heroin," Aden said taking the envelope back. "This stuff is new, hard to find, really hard to find, but good."

Derrick raised an eyebrow but motioned for Aden to go on.

"They call it Lethe," Aden rushed on. "You mainline it like heroin, but this shit, this shit has some freaky side effects."

"Get to the point Aden," Derrick growled.

"Ok, ok. You shoot it up right? And within like 8 seconds you get the most incredible high. Man, your bones feel like they're made of Jell-O, you are warm and it is Shangri – La my friend. Nothing can mess with you, and you're completely oblivious of the entire lousy world for at least a day. It's the best high you'll ever have, but you don't get it for free, you got to give something back for that feeling man. You've got to pay Charon."

"Stop being so freaking poetic, if it's that good then it cost you a sick amount of cash and I want to know why it's worth my time."

"You lose three days," Aden said his smile fading. "You don't remember anything from the three days before you shot up." He paused. "I don't know why, no one does, but if you want to visit you've got to pay Charon man."

He stopped again studying Derrick's face for a reaction. He must have liked what he saw because his grin returned.

"And who the hell says I'm giving him all of it?"

Derrick reached over and took the packet back, studying it. His mind felt like it had finally managed to break down a wall that had been standing in its way, and already it was attacking this plan driving out the weaknesses and presenting them to Derrick like a long line of P.O.Ws.

If it worked the kid wouldn't remember a thing, and they would be off the hook. They would simply have to drop him off some where, the park probably, and leave.  If it didn't work then who ever found him was still going to report that the kid had been doped up which ripped away any credibility his statement might have. On the off chance that things went to Hell and the hit killed him, well, he wouldn't be happy about it, but no one would seriously look into the death of another drug using teenager in this area. 

"How do you know this stuff really works?" he asked dangling the small paper package in front of Aden's nose.

Aden looked a little sheepish.

"Last time we hit a machine Carlos and I did some celebrating."

"And?"

"When we shot up it was a Monday, I still can't tell you what I did Saturday or Sunday."

Derrick put the package in his pocket.

"Good, we'll do it tonight."


	4. The Search

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Authors Note: A thank you too Wildfirefriendship, crabs, and RowdyGabriev for their reviews of the last chapter. You have no idea how much I appreciate them. 

Part 4

He'd checked the comic book shops first, all of them. If it could be found in the phone book he'd swooped by, starting with Orion's Belt over on third and ending up on the roof of Mac's Comics down by Three Toe Road.  He'd dropped down, much to the excitement of dozens of children, in playgrounds, check out the two most frequented arcades, the grocery stores, 7-11, and continually circled the Foley's house, hoping to   
see Ritchie sprawled out on his bed playing a video game. He'd tried following the way that Ritchie must have taken home that night, but after a few blocks had given up. It would be impossible to map out his trail because of the dozens of possible streets Ritchie could have decided to turn down.

It wasn't that he really believed Ritchie would have ditched school to spend the day at a comic shop. It had never happened before, and Virgil liked to think he would have been invited along, but there was more too it than that.  He and Ritchie had been friends since they were seven, and after nine yeas of friendship he knew and understood the mind and habits of Ritchie Foley better then even his own parents did.  Which when he thought about it wasn't that surprising. 

The Foley's were divorced, and Ritchie's mother had moved to Gotham City to continue her career as a business woman when he'd been nine. She'd even remarried, tying the knot with a tall African-African American man named Alex who she'd met at a company party.  Virgil had only met him once. When he talked about her at all, Ritchie would describe her as not being a bad mom, just a distant one.

_She hasn't forgotten my birthday yet, _Virgil remembered him saying once, but he hadn't been smiling when he'd said it.__

His dad worked at an insurance agency in Dakota, but worked so late and so much that five days out of seven you could find Ritchie having dinner with the Hawkins. He was almost a member of the family, and Virgil knew him inside and out.  Ditching school just wasn't in his makeup.

It was getting late. The sun had almost finished setting, the sky painted in different shades of orange, red and violet, and if he wanted to keep up his search without having his own father out looking for him then he was going to have to make a quick call home.

He landed in a small alley next to the rec-center with a bump, and pulled off of his costume and mask before heading out onto the street. There was a phone booth on the corner, and as his hands darted into his pockets hunting for change he kept his eye on the doors to the rec-center. A group of kids had just exited, and he could hear their loud chatter from across the street. They were all laughing, some of them punching each other in the shoulder. A couple of the girls were flirting with the guys making excuses to grab their arms or smack them playfully, and in turn the guys were poking the girls or wrapping their arms around their waists to pick them up while the girls gave fake protests. Anything that would allow them brief physical contact with a member of the opposite sex was considered a victory. He recognized a few of them from school, and returned the occasional wave or shout in his direction with a smile that he didn't feel. He hadn't really thought Ritchie would come waltzing out of the rec-center, oh no that would make life too easy, but it would have been nice. He was glad to shut the door of the phone booth, and even happier when he heard his father's voice on the end of the line instead of Sharon's.

"Hey Dad."

"Virgil, nice to finally hear from you. You missed dinner."

Virgil winced at the tone in his father's voice, and could have smacked himself. Unless an excuse was made before anyone cooked, dinner with the family every night was an unspoken rule in the Hawkin's household. His dad was not happy.

"Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry. I was out with some of the guys and we grabbed a pizza. I just sort of lost track of time."

"It's all right Virgil, just don't let it happen again."

"I won't," Virgil said quickly. "Um, dad, I'm going to spend the night at Ritchie's, maybe even hang around the whole weekend. That cool?"

"Oh, so you finally found him then."

Virgil could feel his stomach sink into his knees.

"Yep," he answered praying his voice didn't sound as panicked as he thought it did. "Did Mr. Foley call again or something?"

"A few hours ago actually, seems he couldn't put off leaving any longer. He wanted to make sure that Ritchie knew he wouldn't be back for a least a week and a half. When you two get back have Ritchie call him, let him know he's ok."

"Will do."

"Ok, then have fun."

"I will."

"And Virgil."

"Yeah?"

"Stay out of trouble."

"I will Dad."

He hung up the phone with a sick feeling in his stomach. He hated lying to his father, and it bothered him that in the time he'd become Static he seemed to be becoming better and better at it. Pushing the door open, he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to look inconspicuous as he headed to the alley to put his costume back on. It wasn't just the lying that was bothering him. The nervous sense of wrongness that he had felt last night was back, and it scared him, but he pushed the feeling violently away. Being paranoid wasn't going to help him find Ritchie. 

He'd gone a few miles in the opposite direction of the rec-center, and was flying over one of the seeder parts of Dakota when he heard the shouting. 

Scanning the city below him, Virgil saw a girl backed against the wall of one of the corner buildings. A semi-circle of four guys had formed around her, and he dropped lower ready to kick major butt when the girl lunged at her nearest threat. He was too far away to get specifics on what had happened, but the first one she'd grabbed gave a cry and pulled away. When the first one managed to twist away she just went for another, and would have gotten another one too if the remaining guys hadn't bolted.

Pausing to grab something from the ground the girl took off after them, and Virgil followed going low enough so that he could have knock the hat off of one of the kids head if he'd wanted, and as he followed he could feel his mouth dropping open. Below him was a short, willowy Asian girl in blue jeans that had seen better days, and an old black jacket that was so big on her small frame it flapped behind her like a cape, in mad pursuit of a group of four guys, all of whom had a look of terror painted across their faces. 

The guys were reaching the end of the block when the girl stopped, and threw what ever she had held in her hand at them. The object struck one boy in the back of the head, and he was down for a moment before managing to scramble back up to his feet and hurry to catch up with the others.  
"Don't come back," The girl shouted in angrily. "I gave you two warnings already I won't be giving out another."

Grinning now, Virgil dropped the last few feet, stepping off his board and tucking it under his arm before moving out of the shadows to confront her.

"Wow," he said respect in his voice. "I don't know what you did, but you had those guys running for their lives." 

The girl spun around her eyes wide. She had a knife in her hand, but upon seeing Static Shock standing in front of her it quickly disappeared. He didn't move to take it from her.

"Nice job getting those grease ball off of you," he said. "Makes my job easier when the damsels in distress aren't so…well, distressed."

She didn't answer, just stared at Virgil with suspicion.

"Are you ok?" he asked his tone softer.

She had a scratch on her cheek, but it didn't look bad, wasn't even bleeding.

"I'm fine," she finally said.

"Do you need to go anywhere," Virgil asked. He made a motion to move closer, and she stepped back quickly. He stopped and put his hands out in an unthreatening manner. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to take you home or something. You may have kicked butt, but it's getting dark."

"Thanks," she said cautiously. "But no. I'm fine."

He nodded, and took a few steps back before opening his board up. Dropping it to the ground he was just about to leave when a lanky Hispanic kid turned the corner. He froze at the sight of Static, and shot a look at the girl.

"Tracy?" he asked.

"It's cool Carlos," The now named girl answered. Her eyes scanned Virgil from top to bottom before meeting his eyes. "It is cool, isn't it Static?"

Virgil was taken back.

"Well, of course it's cool. You're not in trouble I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

He was confused at her reaction. She obviously knew who he was, so why was she acting as though she expected him to jump her at any moment? Stepping onto the board he gave the girl a half hearted smile, trying to look as unthreatening as possible, before taking off in the bust of light that came with his powers. He glanced back once and saw the two of them watching him wearily, suspicion written in their eyes. 

_After I find Ritchie, _he thought. _I'm going to spend more time patrolling this neighborhood. If the people around here are even afraid of me then the area must be worse off then I thought._


	5. Found

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Authors Note- Wildfirefriendship, you rock for reviewing every chapter that I've posted so far!  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Part 5

There was no moon that night.  The park, whose lights had long since been broken, was wrapped in a thick darkness.  For Derrick and Carlos so used to the city and the never ending supply of streetlamps, apartment lights, and glowing neon signs the darkness that the park created felt strange and foreign, but it also useful. It created a cover, their own cloak of invisibility that allowed them to slip among trees, playground equipment, empty beer bottles, and cigarette butts to dispose of what had been an unwanted guest. 

"Damn it, he's heavy," Carlos grunted shifting the weight of Foley who was draped over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Why do I have to carry him?"

Derrick didn't look back, just pushed a few of the branches that blocked his path to the side and kept moving.

"Because I know the way."

"The park's a big place," Carlos said stumbling a little. "Let's just drop him here and go."

Derrick gave the dying flashlight in his hand a few smacks, and nodded in approval when the thin beam of sick yellow light reappeared. 

"Quit bitching, we're almost there."

Foley had been out of it for almost an hour now, high as a kite and hopefully enjoying the ride they had sent him on. Not that he'd been a very enthusiastic or willing passenger. It had taken the four of them to hold him down, and Derrick had a feeling that his split lip was never going to fully heal. He'd been the one to hold onto the kid from the back. 

_Cutting the ropes off from around his hands, he'd slid one arm around the chest while the other one held the left arm twisted behind Foley's back. He'd felt the kid's heart beat skyrocket, thumping hard and fast through the back of his shirt even before the vocal protest had started._

_"What are you doing?" he'd asked no longer with the calm controlled voice Derrick had heard in their last conversation._

_Tracy had pinned his feet, and Aden had pulled the arm Derrick had left free forward, yanking up the sleeve and holding it still between his two great hands.  _

_"No! Stop!" Foley had demanded. "Let go of me."_

_No one had said anything, and it had been Carlos who had injected him, a task that took three attempts. When he'd first tried Foley had jerked away, snapping his head up. The top of Foley's head had connected with Derrick's jaw, and his mouth had filled with the familiar taste of his own blood, but he hadn't let go. Foley had fought hard to twist out of their grasp, and going into an all out panic when Carlos tied his arm off._

_"God no!"___

_"If you keep moving," Carlos had said. "Then it's going to hurt."_

_"Screw you!"_

_"Hold his arm still," Derrick had snapped at __Aden__. The large man's head had nodded and Foley gave out a small whimper at the sudden pressure that was applied to his arm. The drug worked fast, and Derrick had felt the kid's body relax in his arms, the breathing going slow and shallow until there was almost nothing. _

"Shit!"

A harsh epithet from Carlos finally made Derrick turn back around. 

"Will you shut your mouth it's just a few more feet."

The two of them stumbled along, the flashlight giving out three more times before it finally rested on an old wooden picnic table.

"Here."

Carlos strolled over, and dropped the kid onto the table in an ungraceful heap. Foley's head smacked against the wood, but no sound of pain came with it.

"Try not to kill him Carlos," Derrick said.

He swung the weak beam of light around him, catching the out line of the trees and bushes. He couldn't see anything beyond them. 

"All right," Carlos said. "Let's go."

Derrick turned back around the light racing ahead of him. It caught Carlos in its weak path and Derrick raised an eyebrow at the pair of shoes that now hung around the other boys neck, tied together with the laces. He doubted that Carlos could have seen the expression in the dark, but he must have guessed that a question was coming because he grinned wolfishly at him his teeth yellowed and sharp in the faint light.

"I need new sneakers. His looked my size."

It was a little past 2:17 am and Virgil was exhausted. He had searched every corner of Dakota and found nothing, not one sign of Ritchie. The nervous itch had grown making him twitchy and nervous, as though the electricity running through his body had grown a voice of its own and was now warning him of an unseen danger. It was becoming harder to convince him self that one more trip around the city would be the solution to finding his friend, and he was being forced to consider the unwanted though that Ritchie had been taken. Unlike the last time though, it wouldn't be because one of the bad guys thought they could get to Static Shock through the blond teenager. Besides Ebon none of the meta humans in the area probably even knew Ritchie existed. If someone had taken him it would have been just a random criminal, someone who might want Ritchie for reasons beside revenge. Reasons that made Virgil's skin crawl. 

He chased the thoughts away almost as soon as they appeared. That wasn't going to happen.

Not wanting to give up, but not having any luck with his current course of action, Virgil had created a loose plan in his mind. He would search the park one last time. If he found nothing then tomorrow he would weed out ever meta- human that wasn't rotting in prison, from Hotstreak to Puff. Even if one of them hadn't taken Ritchie he would have bet his entire comic book collection that they knew something. People like Hotstreak and Puff may have been bad to the bone, but that didn't make them blind or deaf.  

He hovered down into a secluded spot in the middle of the park.  It was almost completely hidden form sight by the shadowy out lines of trees and bushes on all sides,  and the light from his board bathed the clearing in a shimmering white blue light.  He couldn't fly here. The park was filled with hundreds of small nooks and hiding spots that would have been impossible for Virgil to find from atop his board, but that didn't mean the tool was useless. After landing he folded it up, but instead of stowing it away in his coat allowed his power to continue its flow through the metal. It glowed in the same silver blue light that circled his feet when he road, and blazed like a torch, lighting his way better than any flashlight could have done.

Spinning around the clearing, he held the torch high praying he hadn't just interrupted a couple having a little bit of fun on a Friday night. At the end of the clearing was a long wooden picnic table that stood half in the white blue light and half in shadow. In the light he could just make out a pair of stocking feet almost hanging off the edge of it, and Virgil moved closer to get a better look.

_Probably just some park bum catching a little sleep, _He thought.

The pool of silver blue light grew as Virgil ventured closer, first revealing legs, then a torso, arms and finally a head. The light caught in the sleeper's hair and face making the skin look smooth and pale as death, the hair a startling white blond color. He froze.

"Ritchie?"


	6. A Little Help

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me.

Authors Note: Another thank you to Wildfirefriendship. Oh, and I took your advice about putting the flashback section in part five in italics.

Part 6

When Virgil first saw him he thought he was dead. His stomach turned to ice, and the world seemed to shrink until all that existed was the pale, unmoving form of his friend lying in the dark. Ritchie's skin was cold to the touch, and he didn't move even when Virgil grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.

"Ritchie," he called. "Ritchie man, wake up."

Virgil shook him and lightly smacked his face. 

"Rich, come on don't scare me like this."

In the blue silver light given off by his board it looked as thought his friend wasn't even breathing. His hands slid clumsily along the neck looking for a pulse, and the ice in his stomach melted away sending arctic water into his knees when he felt the steady, if slow, beat under his fingers.

"This is not cool," he said under his breath.

The teal and orange hoodie was covered in grime with black stains that could have been oil found all over the sleeves and back. The jeans were even worse, especially around the knees, and there was a nice yellow and blue bruise blossoming across his jaw. Ritchie's shoes were gone, and his glasses were also missing. Without them his face looked cleaner, somehow smoother and uncluttered. 

"You're dad's going to kill you for losing those," Virgil mumbled softly.

He felt Ritchie's arms and fingers, relieved when he found everything in its proper position, and still holding him up with one arm leaned in to get a closer look at the bruise. Because of the bad light, Virgil had to lean in until the two of them were almost nose to nose, and he was not prepared when Ritchie's eyes shot open. 

"Jeeze!" he cried jerking back, his hands losing their grip on Ritchie who collapsed back onto the table with out a sound.

His heart thumping painfully against his ribs, Virgil yanked Ritchie back up.

"Sorry, man, sorry."

The half lidded eyes didn't open again, and Ritchie's head had flopped forward, chin pressed against his chest. 

"You are not allowed to give me heart attack and then fall asleep," Virgil hissed. "Wake up Ritchie!"

Nothing.

Virgil pried one of Ritchie's eye lids open. The pupil was huge, a circle of black that blocked out the blue he should have been seeing like a dark storm cloud covering a clear summer day. There were only two things that he could think of off the top of his head that would have caused this.  Virgil ran his hand though his friend's hair, ghosting over the temples with his fingers looking for a lump that may be the source of a concussion.  He didn't find anything. The only other possibility happened to be drugs, and he sniffed the air and his friends clothing tentatively. He didn't smell weed.

 _This is stupid, _he thought._ Ritchie doesn't do drugs._

He knew that, but couldn't stop himself from further investigation. Pulling Ritchie against his chest so that he wouldn't fall backward again, he rolled up the sleeves of the teal hoodie. The left arm was clean, but the right arm had a puncture wound next to the vein. It was bruised and painful looking.

"Oh Jesus, Ritchie."

Carefully laying the blond haired boy back onto the table, Virgil unfolded his board and dropped it to the ground. He slid one arm under Ritchie's knees, the other under his back managing to lift him off of the table and onto the grass.

He had to get Ritchie out of here, but the board was small and Ritchie was heavy. He had done the traditional swoop and rescue more times then he could remember, but he had never been carrying those people far and knew that he couldn't carried Ritchie as far as he would need to go.

_That and if he finds out that I carried him out of here like some damsel in a harlequin romance novel he'll kill me. _

He chuckled hollowly at the thought, the humor feeling sick and out of place.

Stealing another look at his board he felt an idea form. Wrapping his arms around Ritchie's torso, Virgil pulled him against his chest and scooted back until he was resting on the edge of his board. His own legs would dangle off of each side and he would have to hold on tight to make sure Ritchie didn't slide off, but it would work. The only problem now was where to go. 

Tugged the electricity out of his body and sending it into the board, he gently floated them out of the park keeping Ritchie in a tight bear hug.  He stopped once they'd gotten high enough see over the tree tops, and the city was once again visible.

His house was definitely out. Not only did it currently hold his sleeping father and sister, but it was too far from the park for Virgil to try and make the trip in this awkward position. Ritchie's place would have been good, but it was even farther than Virgil's, and if he was honest with himself Virgil was also frightened of being alone with Ritchie.  He'd seen people high, knew what it looked like, but after that his knowledge ended. He wanted someone who knew about this kind of thing, who would know what he was supposed to do.

The city was quiet and dark, in the distance he thought he could hear police sirens, but tonight he ignored them.  A few blocks over he could see a row of apartment buildings, and the one closest to him looked familiar. The complex was dark, but a light could be seen shining out of the windows of whoever lived on the top floor. He tightened his grip on Ritchie and began to fly towards it. Adam might not be thrilled to see them, but whether he liked it or not he was about to become useful.

The night was unusually warm for October, but no matter what time of year it was riding the board was always a chilly trip. Virgil wrapped his long coat around his friend hoping to get some heat into the pale, freezing body, but was distressed when Ritchie still showed no signs of life. 

He went slow, drifting along the air currents that slid by in the night, frustrated at the need for patients when all he wanted to do was break the sound barrier.

"Almost there Ritchie," he found himself murmuring. "I'm going to get you warmed up and make sure you're all right." He paused. "Then I'm going to take care of who ever messed you up, and when that's all over I'm going to kill you for scaring the hell out of me."

He floated up past windows with drawn curtains and dark rooms where shadows lay sprawled across living room floors like ill mannered cats. Gritting his teeth in frustration he was on the edge of screaming when they finally reached the window of the top floor. Inside Adam, also known as Rubber Band Man a former criminal gone good guy who also happened to be dating Virgil's sister Sharon, lay sprawled out on his couch snoring loudly. His lamps and T.V were both still on.

"Figures," Virgil said in an exasperated voice.  

He pounded hard on the window.  Adam rolled over at the noise, but didn't wake up.

Virgil clenched his jaw and pulled a small ball of the electricity into his fingers. He gave it a flick and the ball shot under the glass and into the room, giving Adam a nasty shock.

The taller young man shot up.

"THE HELL!" he screeched.

Virgil responded by giving the glass another hard knock.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes Adam prowled over to the window, throwing it open with a look of annoyance resting on his face. When he saw Ritchie the annoyance melted off, replaced by surprise.

"What happened?" he asked.

Virgil didn't answer. Instead he carefully pushed his friend towards Adam.

"Take him inside, he's freezing."

Grabbing onto Ritchie's shirt sleeves Adam pulled the unconscious boy into the apartment, grunting under the weight. He carried the teenager over to the couch, and after lying him down he turned back to Static.

The board had pitched backwards with the sudden loss of Ritchie's weight, and Virgil had to throw his body forward scrambling in through the window and tumbling onto the floor to keep from plummeting to the pavement. Shaking his head in annoyance, he retrieved his board closing it with a sharp snap before joining Adam. 

"What happened?" Adam asked again.

"I don't really know," Virgil confessed. "I found him in the park.  I think he's been drugged. Check out his right arm."

Adam leaned forward and pulled the sleeve up past the elbow, examining the puncture mark.

"I didn't think this kid would be into that kind of thing," he said his voice layered in disappointment.

"He's not," Virgil snapped. "I know him. He would never have gone near shit like that- hey! What are you doing?!"

Adam had rolled Ritchie's sleeve back down, and was now unfastening the other boy's belt buckle.

"You think you know him," Adam said. "That's great, but I don't want anyone ODing in my living room."

Virgil's hand shot out and grabbed Adam's arm.

"You saw his arms, there weren't any track marks."

Adam rolled his eyes and unclenched Virgil's hand from around his arm. His brown eyes bored into Virgil's and he suddenly looked very tired and very old.

"There are more places in the body that people use to shoot up besides their arms."

"But-"

"You got proof that he didn't do this to himself?"

"Look at his face," Virgil exclaimed. "Who hit him? Look at his wrists, it those aren't rope burns then he's caught one funky rash. 

Where are his glasses? Where are his shoes? Why's he been missing for an entire day and night?"

Adam paused at that.

"How'd you know he was missing for so long?"

"Little bird told me," Virgil said. 

Eyebrows raised Adam crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"This little bird happen to be named Virgil Hawkins?"

  
"I'm not a liberty to disclose my sources."

Uncrossing one arm Adam showed off his own powers, stretching the appendage until it had disappeared inside of the kitchen. When it reappeared he held the phone in his hand.

"I'm thinking I should call Sharon."

  
"What!" Virgil yelped. "Why?"

  
"If that kid was worried enough to ask you to find his best friend then I'll bet you 10 bucks that he's still out looking for him. If he gets himself killed Sharon's going to be upset."

  
Virgil sighed, and not for the first time wondered if it would just be easier to tell Adam he was Static. He already knew Adam was Rubber Band Man, and in a way it would only be fair. Reaching over, he laid a hand on the phone.

"Don't call her. Virgil was the one who told me about Ritchie, but I made him go home."

Adam looked at him in disbelief. 

"Virgil Hawkins trusted you to find Ritchie?  The same kid who still doesn't trust me after a year and a half of dating his sister, trusted you after five minutes?" "

"What can I say? You obviously just don't have that static charm."

The older boy snorted but returned the phone to the kitchen. Virgil was glad to be moving the conversation away from the subject of himself.

"I'm still going to check Ritchie over," Adam said giving him a hard look. "If he's going to stay the night I want to know if I'm dealing with a user."

Virgil gritted his teeth, but didn't move to stop him as the jeans were pulled down, and the boxers pulled up.

A long pink scar over the left thigh was the only marking on Ritchie's body, and Adam nodded in approval some of the tension draining out of his eyes. 

"Well," he said. "I guess you really do know him."


	7. Unmasking and Awakening

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me. The drug Lethe is also my own creation.

Authors Note- Wildfirefriendship, I have run out of words in English to thank you with, so let's break out the big book of foreign languages. Gracias, merci, danke, toda, go raibh maith agat, arigato, gratia, khawp khun and xie xie. 

Rowdy Gabriev- You actually reviewed for every chapter! There are special layers in heaven for people like you. Muchos gracias! 

And a huge thank you to MidnightLoner. Yeah, I imagine Virgil will be glossing over that part of the night if Ritchie ever asks for details.

Part 7

Virgil's first question had been, "What can I do?" and when the reply had been "nothing" he'd almost blown something up.

_"There's nothing you can do," Adam had said. He'd retrieved a blanket from one of the other rooms and was fanning it out over Ritchie. "He's breathing fine, his pulse is a little slow but it's strong, he's not puking his guts out, and there were no other track marks on his body. Now you've just got to wait for him to come down."_

Feeling restless and upset Virgil had stalked angrily around Adam's apartment, making an impatient 'hmm' every time he'd passed the couch and saw no change. Finally, Adam had grabbed him by the shoulders and, none to gently, pushed him into the kitchen.

_"OK, you're driving me crazy. Go pace in there."_

Hating him self for not going back into the living room, but hating looking at his unmoving friend knowing he could do nothing even more, Virgil had stayed in the kitchen. Exhausted he's slid to the floor, back against Adam's counter top, and slipped in and out of a light doze for the rest of the night.  It had passed by uneventfully.

It was almost dawn now, and the sun dripped in through Adam's windows bathing the room in a warm rosy glow. Still sprawled out on the floor Virgil rolled his neck, cracking it, and massaged the sore muscle with the back of his hand. The sound of light footsteps coming across the tile floor caught his attention, and he looked up to see Adam peering over the counter. Walking around to the other side, Adam slid down and sat cross-legged next to Virgil.

"I do have chairs," he said.

Virgil shrugged. He made no move to get up. "I saw them."

Working some of the soreness out of his own neck, Adam settled back against the counter.

"He's still the same," Adam said. "But it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Great."

They sat in a silence that Virgil was glad for. He hated talking to Adam because there was never anything to say to him, and even now he did his best to ignore the other boy's presents. 

"So, do you know where the scar on his thy came from?" Adam asked breaking the silence just as Virgil was about to slip into a light cat nap. Head still back against the counter, Virgil closed his eyes.

"Basketball game," he explained. "Ritchie slipped when he was trying to catch a pass and there was glass on the court. Cut his thy right open and it bled so much that he had to be taken to the hospital to get stitches. Why do you want to know?"

Virgil, his eyes still closed, didn't notice the odd look that passed over Adam's face at the mention of the game. 

"Just trying to make conversation," Adam said. "Was this a recent thing?"

"Kinda. Almost a year I think."

"Really," Adam murmured more to himself then to Virgil. "You know, you seem to know a lot about Ritchie."

Virgil cracked an eye open. 

"I've known him for a long time."

Adam didn't say anything to that. He seemed to be thinking.

_Don't hurt your self, _Virgil thought with a smirk.

"My girlfriend Sharon," Adam began hesitantly. "Has this little brother."

His muscles tensing up Virgil fought to keep his face neutral.

"Yeah, I've met him."

"Right, right," Adam responded. "This kid is really annoying. He's got a huge head, thinks he's all that, but like you said you've met him so you know what I mean."

Frowning, the teenager sat up now wide awake, and more then a little insulted.

"Well where you saw annoying and big headed I saw charming and a snazzy dresser, but please go on."

Adam waved off Virgil's annoyance and continued.

"This kid, Virgil, at first I couldn't stand him. Everyone knew I'd been a criminal, but most people were willing to give me a chance to show that I'd changed. Virgil was not one of those people. This kid didn't like me, didn't trust me, and hated that Sharon wanted to be with me. I've never seen anyone get as tense as Virgil did whenever I got near his family or friends. I got so sick of it that I was close to dragging the kid into a back alley and smacking some sense into him."

"What stopped you from doing that?" Virgil asked interested in spite of himself.

Adam snorted. "Sharon. That girl would have killed me if I'd touched her brother."

The other boy grinned at the thought of Adam cowering under Sharon's sharp tongue and swift right hook. 

"So what changed? Something did change right, that's the point of this story?"

"What changed," Adam answered. "Was that one day I got this idea.  I thought that if I actually tried to understand what made this kid tick, I could figure out a way to get him to accept me. Imagine my shock when I realized that Virgil and I were pretty similar." He ignored Virgil's open mouth and stuttering protests. "He didn't like me because he was protective of the people he cared about. In his eyes I was a threat and he wanted me taken out of the picture, not invited to dinner. And you know what?  If I'd been in his shoes I have felt the same way. We're both just protective about the people we care about." He stopped looking for the right words before continuing. "Lately, I've been starting to think that me and this kid also share a few unique qualities. Things that make us feel like it's our responsibility to do the lion's share of protecting. I've been thinking that we both care about a lot of the same people, and we might be able to do a better job at keeping them all safe if he trusted me for five seconds and worked with me instead of always pushing me away." Adam's serious brown eyes bore into Virgil's. "You get what I'm saying here _Static_?"

Virgil's mind whirled, his palm suddenly sweaty. The room felt smaller then it had a few seconds ago, and he could feel hundreds of screaming emotions scrambling around inside his head all calling out and trying to be heard. Oh yeah, he heard him all right, and he found himself agreeing with the guy. He didn't know if he was ready for this just yet, but he was too tired to play mind games with a man who had named himself after a hair accessory. With nervous hands he slid his fingers underneath the mask. This was either going to go very well, or blow up in his face.

_Here's hoping for going very well_, Virgil thought humorlessly. Fingers still resting underneath the cloth, he hesitated for a moment longer before pulling the mask off.  Holding it in his hands, he felt naked and unsure. Taking a deep breath he turned to face Adam.

"It was getting really hot underneath that thing," he said.

Adam's look of complete shock was one that Virgil filed away in his memory, reminding himself to pull the image back up whenever he needed a good laugh. Slowly the other Bang Baby reached over. Taking the mask from Virgil he inspected it in the sun's new light, holding it up, and even rubbing the cloth underneath his fingers. Then he began to chuckle. He fought it back at first, but this only helped the action mutate into a deep, loud, belly laugh that soon had Adam in tears.

"You're really ruining this moment for me," Virgil said dryly.

"Oh, oh man," Adam sputtered out. "You don't understand. Oh, hell I'm crying here."

"I get it," Virgil said. "Finding out that annoying Virgil is really super cool Static has caused your brain to melt. I always suspected something like this would happen."

This only made Adam laugh harder his hands clutching his sides.

Virgil buried his head in his knees.

"Blew up in my face. How nice."

Calming down a little Adam whipped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"I thought you might have been Static, in fact after what you just said I was damn sure, but I didn't expect you to just pull the damn mask off. I thought it was going to take me a few months to wear you down. Worm it out of you."

Glaring at him, Virgil snatched the mask out of the other boy's hands.

"It's been a long night, and what did I say that made you so sure?"

Adam smacked his own thy, the same spot where Ritchie's scar was. 

"Sharon and I were the ones who took you to the emergency room. The kid got blood all over me. Remember?"

Virgil's face got warm. "Oh yeah." He shoved the mask into the pocket of his coat. The past two days had been one nerve wrecking experience after another, and he just wanted it all to end. "You can't tell Sharon, and you can't my tell Dad."

"Fine with me," Adam said. He jerked his head in the direction of the living room. "Am I to assume sleeping beauty in there knows?"

"Yep."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Adam asked. "Though it does explain why you two are joined at the hip."

"We are not-"

"I used to think the two of you just desperately needed girlfriends."

"Hey!"

Laughing again, Adam gave Virgil's shoulder a punch. "Don't get your lightning in a twist. I'm kidding."

Virgil shrugged him off. "I very much want this conversation to end."

He got his wish. From the other room there was a loud thud followed by a cry.

Virgil scrambled to his feet almost tripping over his coat before stumbling into the other room. The faster of the two of them, Adam reached the couch only moments before Virgil stopping so suddenly that the other boy nearly collided into him.

Ritchie was awake. He'd taken a tumbled off the couch, the blanket tangled in his legs. Pushing himself into a kneeling position the blond teenager swayed his body shaking. Adam quickly knelt down and put his hands on Ritchie's shoulders to keep him up-right.

"Yo Ritchie," he said. "Calm down, you're ok. It's Adam. Look at me Ritchie."

The shaking teenager raised his head. Squinting he peered at Adam with glassy eyes.

"A-adam?" Ritchie stammered in confusion.  "Hey. Dude, I think I'm gunna-"

Adam's hand shot past Virgil. Snapping back like a whip it tossed a waste basket under Ritchie just in time for the boy to be sick. When he'd finished Adam accepted the cup of water Virgil had gone back for.

"Wash your mouth out," he ordered pushing the cup to Ritchie's lips.

Virgil bent down on the other side of Ritchie, frightened at the violent change in his friend's condition. Before Ritchie had been cold to the touch and unnaturally still, now though his skin was hot and flushed, and shudders ran through his frame.

"Ritchie," Virgil said trying to get closer. 

"Virgil?"

"Yeah man it's me."

The other boy looked to his right and squinted in a vain attempt to see.

"I need my glasses," he mumbled. 

"Help me get him back onto the couch," Adam said.

Sliding an arm underneath Ritchie's shoulders, the two meta-humans deposited the weak teenager onto the sofa. When they'd settled him back down, Adam laid a hand on his forehead and peered into his eyes. 

"His pupils are back to normal," he remarked. "But he's on fire."

"I feel sick," Ritchie mumbled. He turned his head to look at Virgil. "I-I threw up man."

"I noticed," Virgil said with a worried smile. He gave Adam a sharp look. "Tell me this is normal."

"It is, sort of. Hold on." 

Adam disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back he was holding a wet wash cloth that he tossed to Virgil. "Try to cool the boy down."

Catching it, Virgil wiped it across his friends face. Memories of his mother doing the same thing to him once when he was small flashed into his mind then quickly disappeared.

"What does 'sort of' mean?" he asked.

"When you come down from smack the throwing-up is normal enough, most people even get a heroin hangover where you're weak, shaky, and probably have a headache for a day. It's not anything to worry about though. I've seen people feel worse from drinking too much tequila." He bent over Ritchie again, laying a hand on the hot dry skin to feel his pulse. "But he shouldn't be this hot. Usually you're skins hot and dry during the high, not afterward."

"Meaning what?" Virgil asked impatiently.

"Don't know. Give it some time, we'll see how he feels in a little bit."

-

Ritchie's return to the land of the conscious did not last long. Tired and feverish, he soon slipping into an uneasy sleep, and Virgil felt no better about the situation then he had when he'd first brought him to Adam. The shaking was much less violent, but the fever burned through him, and his breathing was harsh. Soon Ritchie was mumbling in his sleep, having small broken conversations with people only he could see.

Virgil and Adam waited, watching the sun fully rise until the entire apartment was bright and the noise of those on their way to work could be heard from the street below. Virgil thought he had been remarkably patient through this entire ordeal, but when the honking of horns and purring of car engines had died down signaling the end of rush hour he decided that enough was enough.

"I think we've waited long enough," Virgil said. "And the look on your face tells me that this ain't normal. Is he having a bad reaction to this stuff or what?"

The other meta-human was calmer then Virgil, and had spent the time leaning against the far window watching Ritchie and thinking.

"I don't think so. Unless it was laced with something nasty he shouldn't be reacting like this."

Some of the blood drained out of Virgil's face.

"We have to take him to the hospital."

Adam shook his head. "I would say yes if I still thought this was heroin, but he's got a lot of mixed up symptoms. He's cold for hours, then hot. He's barely breathing then fighting for air. None of them are symptoms that I can link with any of the drugs I know of, unless of course he's a long time user." He caught Virgil's steal gaze. "Which we both agreed he's not."

"If you don't even know what it is then that's just one more reason to take him to a doctor," Virgil argued.

"He doesn't look like he's in any immediate danger," Adam responded. "If we wait it out then he could pull out of it by himself and be just fine."

"But you don't know that," Virgil said sharply. "Man, why are you fighting me on this?"

"Is Ritchie's dad an understanding guy?" Adam asked suddenly.

Virgil looked surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

"What? I don't know. Not really I guess, don't change the subject."

"Virgil we take this kid to the hospital they will call his folks, and they will tell them that their son was using drugs. You think his dad's going to believe he didn't do this to himself? You think other people are going to believe that? How about your family? Will they treat him any differently? Trust him? This could destroy a few of the relationships that he might have."

"We trusted you," Virgil snapped. "Besides, what's a bad reputation going to matter if he's dead?"

"You're right," Adam said trying to keep his temper in check.  "This could be bad, but so far all it looks like is a really bad flu. On the other hand, I do want to know more about what this could be." While he'd spoken, Adam had pulled on his jacket struggling to get his arms through the sleeves before snatching up his keys from the table. He was heading for the door. "Give me an hour. I'm going to go talk to someone who might know what's going on."

Virgil jumped to his feet trailing after Adam. "Who are you going to see?"

"An old girlfriend."


	8. Old Girlfriends

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me. The drug Lethe is also my own creation.

Authors Note: Apologies that it took so long for this chapter to come out. Thank you to all who have reviewed. 

Part 8

They were playing Egyptian Rat Screw and if Carlos could beat the jack Derrick had just thrown down then it would all be over. Aden was already out, his sharp eyes and large hand waiting for the appearance of the double set of cards that would allow him to slap back into the game while across the table Carlos sat grinning at the two of them, shuffling and reshuffling his thick hand of cards. 

"Carlos," Derrick snapped. "It's your turn."

Carlos slapped a nine over Derrick's jack. 

Derrick nodded approvingly at the cards, as though they had played a part in his momentary win. It was when he leaned over to collect them that he first heard the voices. 

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I just need to ask you a few things."

"Go to hell."

"Tracy -"

"Get out of my way."

"No."

Pushing away from the rickety card table, Derrick made his way over to the warehouse entrance and pushed the door open. The back of a tall, skinny, black man was in front of him. He could see Tracy over the man's shoulder a look of fury etched across her usually stoic face. Derrick would bet that she was only a breath away from attacking the man.

"You got a problem Tracy?" Derrick asked casually. 

Before Tracy could answer the head of the man turned completely around. Derrick bit back a gasp, his eyes going wide and frightened. When he realized that he recognized the face, his fear was quickly replaced by amusement and caution. 

"Adam."

"Derrick," Adam responded. He didn't twist the rest of his body around leaving his head and neck facing Derrick while his front still faced Tracy. The sight was humorous and slightly sickening. Behind Adam, Tracy slowly began to reach for her knife. Derrick gave a small head shake. Burning black eyes stared back into his, but she nodded and let the hand fall to her side. 

"I honestly didn't think you'd still be living in this dump," Adam said. 

Derrick shrugged. "I'm not the one who was living in a circus tent for three months. Turn the rest of you around. You're making me sick."

"Rude to turn my back on a lady," Adam said dryly. "Don't you have any manners?"

"Tracy," Derrick said.

Her composure already collected Tracy walked around the meta-human, the remains of her anger still smoldering in her small dark eyes. Once she was next to Derrick, Adam let the rest of his body follow the direction his head had turned.  

 "You come to arrest us?" Derrick asked his tone low and condescending. 

"Depends if you've done anything that I'd need to arrest you for," Adam retorted.  
Smirking Derrick put his hands up. "Be stupid to tell you if I had, now wouldn't it?"

"And you of course are anything but stupid aren't you Derrick?" Adam said. "I've just got to talk to Tracy for a minute. Then I'm gone, but if you want to make trouble I have no problems with kicking all of your asses and dragging you down to the police. I'm sure they could find something on you." 

Derrick hesitated. If Adam wanted to fight, Derrick knew they wouldn't be able to beat him. He was a meta-human now, a freak, and Derrick was no fool.  

"Tracy," he said. "Do me a favor and talk to the boy, but bring it inside." 

Ignoring the scalding look Tracy threw at him, Derrick backed up waving to the doorway. 

"After you." 

Adam walked in. Tracy and Derrick at his heels. 

Neither Aden nor Carlos moved from their seats when Adam entered the warehouse. They glance first to Derrick who shook his head. Aden raised an eyebrow, but kicked back and put his feet on the table. Carlos pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocked, lit it, and began to smoke. Derrick joined them, sliding into the empty chair his gaze carefully studying Adam for reactions while Tracy stood toe-to-toe with the meta-human, her arms still down at her sides, the long sleeves of the hoodie engulfing her small hands. 

"Talk," she commanded. 

"I want to know about any of the new drugs that have shown up in Dakota recently," Adam began. "Anything that would be injected into the arm and that might resemble heroin."

"You're looking for drugs?" Tracy asked amusement coloring her voice. "They were never your thing before."

"No, but they were yours," Adam said. 

"Not anymore," Tracy said giving her short, black hair a flip. "And if you've really gone all straight and narrow then what makes you stupid enough to think that I'd tell you if I did know something? I'm not a big fan of prison Adam. I can't help you."

"Aw Tracy have a heart," Derrick barked suddenly from his spot at the table. "Was the break-up really so bad that you've got to send the boy away empty handed?"

Carlos let out an amused snort.

"We could help you out Adam," Derrick continued watching the older man with faked sincerity. "Except that, like you said, it's a little embarrassing to still be living in this dump." He sighed. "Unfortunately, we lack the kind of cash that would help us get into a nice, cheap, motel and off these cold streets."

Adam's eyes narrowed. 

"I hear it's really warm in Dakota's jail cells."

The amusement that had covered Derrick's face quickly melted away, his sharp eyes going cold. He couldn't afford to be sent to prison over this. 

"If you want help then we're going to need specifics about the wonder drugs you're looking for," he finally growled. 

"There are two," Adam said slowly pulling the image of Ritchie into the forefront of his mind. "The first one makes you look like you're dead. Your skin gets cold, your pupils become dilated, and you throw up afterwards."

"Sound like Lethe," Carlos broke in with a bored tone. "Came from Metropolis. It's the newest stuff out there, and the most expensive. Looks so much like heroin that the police don't even know it exists yet." He took a long deep drag off of his cigarette. "Gives you one hell of a ride if you can find it."

"Are those the only symptoms that go with it," Adam asked cautiously. He looked nervous, Derrick noted. Far to tense for someone who could easily dispose of the four of them without breaking a sweat. There was something else going on, and he waited patiently for more information to be presented. 

 "Memory loss," Carlos said flicking some of the ash off the end of his cigarette. "Three days of memory loss. Oh, sure you remember that you shot up, and even that's a little fuzzy, but from that moment count backwards three days. Those days no longer exist."

Adam looked curious, "Anything else?"

"Not unless you get a bad batch of the stuff," Aden said joining the conversation. "Heard it happened to one guy, caused one hell of a fever; killed him."

Adam's dark eyes slid over to Aden. Derrick noticed with interest that a look of panic had flickered across Adam's long face at the mention of a death. It had disappeared so quickly that no one other than Derrick, who had been watching for just that sort of reaction, would have noticed. This was the information that Adam had come for. 

"Really?" Adam finally responded

Aden nodded sagely. 

"Yep. The hospitals around here don't know how to deal with it yet. Apparently the stuff looks so much like heroin that even doctors get fooled. If you get a bad hit your best hope it that someone gets you to Metropolis, they might have an idea of what they're dealing with." 

 "Most people just die," Carlos said taking another drag. "Their bodies can't fight the fever."

Adam made a 'hmm' noise in the back of his throat then began listing the symptoms for the second drug. 

_This is bullshit Derrick thought with amusement. Adam's body language had changed dramatically. For anyone who knew what to look for the other man now seemed anxious, ready for the deal to be finished so that he could be on his way. _He just wanted to know what Lethe was. __

Carlos and Aden were responding to something that Adam had just asked. Derrick ignored them. He was intrigued. Just when he'd thought this particular game was over a new piece had been added to the board. He needed to think of how he was going to deal with it.  

_Trying to make it look like all you wanted was a list of the new stuff so that you'd know what to look for when you did the superhero gig. Looking for information on Lethe after we just get rid of that kid using the same drug. I don't believe in coincidences Adam._

The conversation between Adam and the rest of his crew was finished. 

"Thanks for your help," Adam said heading for the door. "Let's hope we never have to do business again."

Tracy sneered at his retreating back not turning around even after the other man had disappeared from sight. 

Derrick pushed his chair back, the legs scrapping loudly across the cement floor. 

"Carlos, follow him," he ordered. "Tracy, Aden, get the stuff together. We're taking rubber boy's advice and moving out."

It was almost 1:30 when Ritchie woke up again. Fever bright eyes blink at Virgil as he slid an arm behind his friends back, helping him to sit up.

"Sip that," he commanded pushing a cup of water against Ritchie's lips.

He did. 

"How do you feel?" Virgil asked when Ritchie was finished.

"Sick," Ritchie whispered back. "Really sick. Do I have the flu?"

"Um, no."

"Oh," Ritchie mumbled looking confused.  "Did I give blood?"

Virgil eyebrows raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

"What?"

"There was a needle in my arm," Ritchie mumbled. "But I don't remember why."

"No Ritchie you didn't give blood," Virgil answered hurriedly. "But the needle. What do you remember about that?"

Ritchie's face clouded over, and he fought to keep his eyes from drifting shut.

"Someone had my arms," the teenager whimpered.  "I couldn't move, because somebody had my arms. I couldn't-"

He was loosing him to the fever again. 

"Never mind Ritch," Virgil said pushing his friend back onto the couch. "Forget it, we'll talk later." 

Ritchie nodded his eyes drifting closed. 

Fighting the urge to tear his hair out, Virgil slid to the floor, his back to the couch. His own eyes were beginning to droop closed, but as much as he wanted to he couldn't sleep. Giving himself a hard shake Virgil got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen to raid Adam's fridge. He needed caffeine.  

He was half way across the room when the front door opened and Adam came in. He shut the door with a bang, striding quickly across the room making his way to the couch. Bending down he laid a hand over Ritchie's forehead frowning when he found no change.

"Vigil, go into my room," Adam ordered. "Get some of my street cloths on then get back here. Be quick!"

"What are you talking about?" Virgil asked. "What did you find out?"

"I'll tell you in the car."

"Car? Where are we going?"

"Do you have to question everything?" Adam exploded.

"Yes, because you never seem to want to share anything that might be important!" Virgil snapped back. "You want me to trust you? Then I need you to trust me, especially when it involves my best friend!"

Adam sighed, annoyed, but no less impatient. 

"I was right, it's a new drug called Lethe. It fit all of the symptoms Ritchie had, and it's new enough that no hospital around here is going to be any help. We need to get him to Metropolis."  
"Why Metropolis," Virgil asked.

 "That's where the drug came from. If anyone knows how to help him it's going to be there."

"So I was right, this isn't normal." Virgil said worriedly.

"Yes," Adam agreed, "and if we don't get him help soon the fever will kill him."

Virgil felt his stomach tighten. He swallowed and nodded, but didn't move.

"How long will it take us to get to Metropolis from here?" he asked the gears in his mind beginning to move.

"If we don't stop and my car doesn't break down, a day and a half," Adam answered. "If we leave now we can get him there by tomorrow night."

"That's too long," Virgil said. "I can get there in a couple of hours."

"But you can't carry him," Adam argued. 

"No," Virgil said slowly, "but I think I could find someone who could fly back here, get Ritchie, and go back to Metropolis faster than we could drive one way."

"Are you on drugs too?" Adam asked in disbelief. "Who do you possibly know in Metropolis that can fly that fast! Hell man, who do you know who can even fl-." He stopped, suddenly understanding. "No. No, you're kidding. You know him?"

"Not really," Virgil said. "He's more like the friend of a friend." 

An image of a scowling Batman appeared in Virgil's mind, and he mentally winced. Friend was a bit too strong of a word to use when describing that particular relationship. Tolerant comrades might have been a better term. 

Changing direction, Virgil headed for the window, pulling his mask out of his pocket. Adam followed, grabbing one of Virgil's shoulders. 

"How do you know you're going to be able to find him?"  
"I'll yell 'help' in a really loud girl voice," Virgil snapped pulling away. He paused at the disbelieving look on Adam's face. "I'll figure something out." 

Adam let out a low grumbled then threw his hands up. 

"Fine, I'll stay here and try to keep your boy over there in the land of the living. You go play nice with all the other superheroes and make a brand new friend."

Virgil grinned, pulling his mask back into place.

"I'll be back," he said snapping his bored open, and climbing out the window. 


	9. Option Two

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock and Superman are the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me. The drug Lethe is also my own creation.

Authors Note: Much appreciation and thanks to all of you who are enjoying this fic enough to review. 

Part 9

Virgil flew for five hours, his powers and stamina feeding off the adrenalin rush that pumped through his veins with every heart beat. It made him feel lightheaded, and weightless. Like at any moment he could step off the board and float lazily to the ground. Urgency lurked behind it, clinging to the edges and chanting _hurry, hurry, hurry_.

At first he followed the highways, running numbers and junctions through his head trying to remember exactly where Rt. 355 became Rt. 55 and whether or not he was supposed to get off on 59 or 33 - or was it 64? When the roads became nothing more then unfamiliar rivers of gray cement he gave up on maps and memory. Instead he headed west, flying straight into the setting sun trusting his natural sense of direction. The irony was not lost on him. Wasn't flying off into the sunset something you did after you'd saved the day? 

By the time Virgil got to Metropolis the sun was gone, but his rush still lingered. It was good, because he was going to need it.

Metropolis was a big city, much bigger than Dakota. Its skyscrapers were darker, its stop lights brighter, its shadows longer in the night. Occasionally a pale yellow light would shine out through one of the oblong windows, some poor businessman working late, creating the large gaping mouth of a nocturnal sentinel waiting to devour him.  There were dozens of people on the streets too, but they kept their noses pointed at the pavement, they never noticed the quick flash of light above their heads.  

In spite of the cities size, Virgil knew where he was going. Knew what he needed to find. In all honesty, even if you weren't looking for it, the huge globe that marked the Daily Planet was hard to miss. 

He avoided the windows and landed on the roof. A light breeze ran through his hair, making the rest of his body shiver. He'd been sweating, and now that he wasn't moving he felt cold. Leaning over the side of the roof he kept a loose grip on the folded board in his hand. 

If you wanted to get Superman's attention there were really only two available options. Option One involved screaming for 'help' as loud as physically possible.  Simple yes, but for the normal run-of –the-mill civilian effective at least eight times out of ten. Option Two was harder, it required a lot more muscle, but it was 100% effective. Virgil didn't much like Option Two, it involved a lot of the very things he fought to prevent as Static, but he didn't have time to play damsel in distress, and he wasn't going to chance being unheard. 

He gave himself another minute, taking the time to herd his stray thoughts back into his mind. Pushing away the few lingering feelings of doubt, he took a deep breath, flipped open the board and dropped over the roof's edge.

It was almost seven o'clock, but the Daily Planet was still alive and buzzing. Reporters clacked away at computers in rushes to finish final stories, copy-editors bent over hard copies of already finished pages grumbling softly about the stupidity of their co-workers, and bored temps in wrinkled khakis wandered aimlessly around the office looking for any sort of small job to perform.  

Virgil watched it all, peering in through the large glass windows that circled the building. He glossed over each face, looking for the one he would need. If she wasn't here, he was going to have to fall back on Option One.

As his eyes jumped from face to face, Virgil began to rope in his electricity. Tugging it out of every cell in his body, he pushed it out of his toes and legs, up through is torso, past his shoulders and down his arms until it was all compressed into the palms of his hands.

He finally spotted her as she walked across the room nose buried in the heart of a large manila folder. She took a seat at one of the desks closest to the window. A lanky, red haired temp, not much older than Virgil, took a seat at the edge of her desk, a camera swinging lazily from a strap around his neck. When she lifted her dark head to acknowledge him Virgil struck. 

Electricity hated to be locked up. It loved to move, and wiggle. It was jumpy and quick and possessed a short unforgiving temper. When compressed into a small space it would beat wildly against the walls of its prison until released. It had not appreciated being smothered in Virgil's clenched fists. 

He released the electricity in his left hand first. There was a brilliant flash of white light as it shot through his body washing over his arms, legs, stomach, and head until he was as bright as a firefly. The flash of it blinded him, and when he could once again see clearly he had the attention of the entire Daily Planet. Grinning cheekily, Virgil waved at the gawking reporters.

The electricity in his right hand, feeling that its sibling had been released thrashed violently against Virgil's palm in an attempt to escape. Drawing back his arm, Virgil wound up like a baseball pitcher and threw the power straight into the nearest streetlight. 

It lit up like burning star, brilliant and beautiful, before exploding. Showers of glass rained down onto the pavement. Virgil yanked hard on the electricity and sent it hopscotching into the next light, and then the next. He maneuvered it across the street then back, creating a spider web of treacherous light. Pandemonium broke out as pedestrians raced to get off the streets, but amidst the surge Virgil could spot two individuals running onto them. Lois Lane was not hard to spot, and the red haired temp form her desk was right behind her, camera lens pointed at Virgil as he snapped picture after picture. 

Virgil circled the crowd once then dove down through one of the holes in his electric web. There was a rush of heat when he swept in past the mass of shouting bodies, then a blur of movement as her reached for Lois Lane. He only had one clear view of her and then a flash of red obscured his vision. He grabbed blindly. There was an angry cry that was devoured by the wind. Holding tightly to the arms of his passenger Vigil sailed into the darkness, the glow of the electricity fading behind him. 

_The old swoop and grab_, he thought bitterly. _Works every time_.

He didn't go far, only a few city blocks before landing on the roof of one of the taller skyscrapers. The moment the board hit the flat surface, his unwilling passenger elbowed him in the side, shoving Virgil off the board.  He tumbled onto the roof in an ungraceful heap. 

"Ow! Hey!" he yelped scrambling to his feet. Getting a good look at his passenger for the first time, he froze. 

The lanky, red haired temp, the photographer who had been close at the heels of Lois Lane, glared back at him. 

Virgil felt the little energy he had left drain out of his body, congregating into a puddle around his feet.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned in frustration. 

The red haired temp took a step back, lifting his camera into the air ready to take a swing if necessary. His eyes went around Virgil where the door to the stairway must have been. 

"Don't look so panicked. I'm not going to hurt you," Virgil said tiredly. 

Not lowering his camera, and still eyeing Virgil suspiciously he nodded. "Good to know. Who are you?" 

"I'm Static," Virgil said.

"As in cling?"

"As in shock."

"Oh," the temp replied. He nervously ran his hand through his hair. "Never heard of you."

"Of course you haven't," Virgil said dryly. "Who are you, a temp at the Planet?"

The teenager had the nerve to look insulted. "I'm a photographer."

Virgil nodded. He desperately wanted to sit down. Using that much energy in one take had drained him, and he doubted that he had enough power left to even charge up the board. He'd messed up Option Two, the only full proof plan he'd had and now he was stuck on the top of a roof, with the wrong hostage, sans his powers.  He had the sudden urge to cry in frustration at the whole thing.  The moment the thought entered his head his pride jerked awake, an insulted and angry white fire. 

_15 year old superheroes do not cry! _It hissed. 

"You were trying to kidnap Lois weren't you?" The photographer asked suddenly. 

"Kidnap is such an ugly word," Virgil said uneasily. "It was more like- well- I just needed to borrow her for a minute. It was for a good cause."

The photographer looked doubtful. 

"Ok, yeah fine I was trying to kidnap her," Virgil snapped. "How did you guess?"  
He shrugged. "Everyone always goes for Lois. That's why I pushed her out of the way when you dove."

"It's because she's Option Two," Virgil said glumly. 

"What?"

"Never mind," Virgil said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I though you were Lois Lane."

The photographer's eyebrows shot up. "You though I was Lois?"

"I didn't look I just grabbed," Virgil defended.

"I am not shaped like a girl," The photographer responded. "You didn't notice the lack of breasts?" 

"I had you from under the arms, everyone feels the same when you grab them under the arms," Virgil said.

"That's not true."

Gritting his teeth, Virgil fought to keep his temper in check. "I was in a hurry, and the swoop and grab is very complicated. I have to sift my center of gravity when I reach, when I grab and then again when I take off to make sure that I don't dump the both of us onto the street. I have to hold onto you while I fly, and people aren't exactly light-weights. Then I have to doge about 100 different buildings, streetlights, traffic lights, and fire escapes while I escape. So excuse me for being just a little bit preoccupied." He sighed. "This is my first kidnapping can you give me a break."

The photographer didn't respond, but he slowly lowered his camera.

"Sorry," the other teenager finally said cautiously. "But since I'm not Lois, what are you going to do with me?"

Virgil snorted. "Nothing, you can go right now if you want. It's not like you're Option Three. Not like I can automatically get Superman's attention by grabbing you." 

The subject of Virgil's rant appeared so quickly that he wondered if he'd been there the whole time. Arms crossed over his chest, he floated between the two boys, blocking the other teenager from Virgil's sight. 

"Actually," Superman said looking annoyed. "You can." 

Virgil froze. 

"Jimmy?" the Man of Steel asked without turning.

"I'm fine," the now named photographer responded.

"Good."

For a minute Virgil could neither move nor speak.

"Who are you," Superman finally asked. 

"S-static Shock," Virgil said feeling like a fool. "I'm a superhero too."

The response was a raised eyebrow.

"I need help," he rushed. "My friend is hurt, and I need to get him to Metropolis. I'm sorry about the lights and kidnapping your boy over there, but I didn't know how else to find you. I'll clean up whatever you want, I'll fix whatever you need me to fix, I just- I didn't know what else to do. Please, this isn't a joke or a trap, if it's any consolation I know Batman. I swear. I just need help." 

The older superhero nodded once, his expression thoughtful. Still keeping one eye on Virgil, he turned towards Jimmy. 

 "Jimmy," he said. "Can you make it back to the Planet from here?" 

"Sure," Jimmy said. "It's only a few blocks."

"Good. Go show Lois that you're in one piece."

"Got ya," he said making his way towards the door.

Virgil stopped him as he walked past. "Um, sorry about the mix-up."

Jimmy shrugged. "That's ok. This sort of thing happens more often than you'd think."

Grinning at Virgil's confused expression; the photographer readjusted the strap of his camera and walked away.  


	10. Of Cigarette Butts and Late Arriving Cal...

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me. The drug Lethe is also my own creation.

Authors Note: I apologize for the large gap in time between chapters, but school devoured my life for a few months. Now that summer is here I plan on having a lot more time to write which means updates will (hopefully) be a lot closer together. I'd also like to thank everyone who has reviewed. It means a lot to me, and I'm so glad that so many of you are enjoying this story.

Part 10

"How old are you," Superman asked once the door to the stairwell had banged shut.

"15," Virgil replied.

The older superhero looked surprised at that answer.

"The new ones just keep getting younger," he said to himself shaking his head. "How did you get those powers?"

"There was a chemical spill in my hometown," Virgil answered trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. There was a small part of his brain, the part awake enough to fully understand exactly who he was talking to, that was horrified at the very idea of sounding impatient with the superhero of all superheroes. If this conversation had taken place at any other point in his teenage life he would have been too star struck to speak, let alone adopt a tone. Fortunately, the rest of his brain was doing a great job of shutting that part up. "Not very original, I know."

The older superhero nodded. Turing away from Virgil he wandered over to the edge of the roof and took a seat. "Come over here, you look exhausted. Sit down before you fall down."

Virgil obediently followed, closing the distance between them in three quick strides. He flopped onto the ledge with a grunt of relief, his aching legs thanking him nicely for the break. Virgil stole a quick glance at the Man of Steel. There was a look stretched across his features that reminded Virgil of how his Pops looked just before launching into a lecture on responsibility, school work or why he had to eat all of Sharon's cooking.

"I want you to tell me everything," Superman finally said.

Virgil began to talk.

Around 4:17, when Ritchie's temperature hit 104 degrees, Adam dropped him into a bathtub filled with luke warm water. He kept him there until his temperature went down to a number that didn't require the assistance of the paramedics. After drying him off and putting him back on the couch, Adam laid a cold compress across Ritchie's forehead. The blanket was bunched into a ball and left on the floor.

At 5:00 Ritchie woke up, and Adam forced half a glass of water down his throat. At 5:33 he woke up again, and threw up everything Adam had previously gotten him to swallow.

"T-t-t-his r-really s-sucks," Ritchie had gasped in-between heaves. Adam hadn't said anything, but silently agreed. At 6:18 Ritchie fell back into an uneasy sleep, and at 6:45 Adam ordered a pizza.

"Yes, I know what anchovies are," he growled into the phone. "Look, what I want on my pizza is none of your damn business!"

It showed up at 7:28.

He was counting out the pizza boy's tip when he smelled the cigarette. Flashing a strained smile at the tired looking teenager standing impatiently outside his door, Adam pushed a crumpled five dollar bill into his outstretched hand and took the pizza inside. He only closed the door half-way. Tossing his wallet on top of the coffee table, he slid the still hot pizza box next to it, and went back to the half open door. Standing behind the door, Adam stretched his head through the narrow opening. The hall was empty, but he could still smell the burning tobacco. _Always hated that smell,_ he thought his arms and upper torso stretching out to join his head.

Adam's apartment was at the very end of the hall. Turning right led to a wall and a window, turning left led to the elevator. To the right of the elevator was another wall, but the entrance to the stairs, a door hidden from Adam's view, was to the left. Hugging the wall and moving slowly, Adam slid towards the smell keeping his lower body rooted in the apartment. When he'd reached its end, he stretched his neck upwards, stopping when his head brushed the ceiling. Noiselessly, Adam peered around the corner, looked down and found his future cancer patient. Leaning against the stairwell door, flicking ash onto the hallway's dark blue carpet was Carlos.

_I do not need this right now,_ Adam thought with annoyance.

Carlos took a final drag off of his cigarette then ground the butt of it against the wall. Adam felt a flash of annoyance at the sight of the dark gray smudge. This was his apartment building. He had worked hard to afford living in this building. As far as he was concerned that was his wall, and he wasn't about to stand by and let Carlos leave his own personal calling card on his wall.

Adam's arms darted around the corner grabbing Carlos by the shoulders. Releasing the tension that ran through out his body, Adam flew backwards, through the hall and into the apartment dragging the other boy with him. The force of the snap back made him fly over his stationary lower body. But he was used to this occurrence by now, and his legs quickly followed the rest of his sailing torso. The end of it all saw Carlos pinned against the far wall, dark green sneakers dangling a few inches off of the ground.

"You know," Adam said calmly. "They just painted those walls."

The surprise that covered Carlos' face was quickly pushed away and replaced with a familiar look of vague indifference.

"Anything that white deserves to be messed-up a little," he responded.

"No, no you've just got to learn to be more accepting," Adam said.

Carlos smirked. His eyes slid past Adam landing on the couch where Ritchie still slept fitfully. He took in the sight of the sick teenager with mild interest.

"You have a dying _gringo_ on your couch."

"So good to know that your eyes are still working," Adam snapped. "Now let's see if your voice is still good. Tell me what you're doing in my building."

"I was smoking-…"

A hard shake from Adam cut Carlos off. "Carlos, man, I'm very busy right now. I don't have time for your bullshit. What are you doing here?"

Carlos stared back at him with a blank expression and empty eyes. He glanced past Adam, once again looking at the couch.

"Hey, you're _gringo_ is awake," he said nodding in Ritchie's direction.

The moment it took Adam to turn his head was all the time Carlos needed. Kicking his legs up, he slammed his feet directly into Adam solar plexus. Unprepared for the attack, Adam doubled over with a grunt, losing his grip on Carlos who pulled away and made a run for the door.

Adam spun around throwing out his left arm. The lanky boy ducked, changing directions and dodging across the room. Adam sprang after him, stretching his body out into a large square sheet and threw himself over Carlos in an attempt to trap him. Carlos twisted sprinting back towards the door as Adam dropped down. He almost had him, would have had him, if Carlos had not dropped and slid out the still open door like a baseball player. Molding back into his original shape Adam scrambled to his feet, sprinting to the door. The hallway was empty.

"Damn it," he spat. "I forgot how fast you are." Disgusted, he turned back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Sounds like you cracked the door frame," a tired voice commented.

Startled, Adam looked up to see an exhausted Virgil climbing in through the window. "But then again you've never been that great at keeping your head."

"Kid, you have the worst timing in-…" Adam's sentence died at the sight of the figure that climbed in after Virgil. Well, he supposed "climbed" was the wrong word to use. "Floated" was a much better fit.

"Adam, meet Superman," Virgil said grinning at the meta-human's dumbstruck expression. "Superman, meet Adam."

"Hello," the superhero greeted having successfully made it through the window.

"I don't believe it," Adam said making his way across the room.

"That's the problem with you Adam," Virgil scoffed. "No faith." His grin faded at the sight of Ritchie. "How is he?" he asked walking over to his friend, the sarcasm gone from his voice.

"Getting worse," Adam said joining him. "We've been doing the same dance all day. The fever spikes up and I bring it back down, except it's getting harder and harder to bring it back down."

Virgil nodded, moving to the side to let Superman get closer.

"Is it safe for me to move him?" Superman questioned.

"Don't see how he could get any worse no matter what you did," Adam responded. "Go for it."

The older superhero nodded. Bending down he slid an arm underneath Ritchie's knees and another under his back, lifting him effortlessly off of the couch.

"I'll come back for you two," he said to Virgil. "I don't want to go too fast so it might be a few minutes. Just sit tight." There was a quick rush of wind and then he was gone.

"You are going to explain how you managed to pull this off," Adam commanded still staring at the spot Superman had vacated.

"Love to," Virgil said rubbing his eyes with the back oh his hand. "But it's kind of a long story, and the big S will be back soon. You are coming along when he gets back, right?"

Raising an eyebrow, Adam shot Virgil a hard look. "You're not leaving me behind at this stage in the game." He paused. "Um, just exactly how fast do you think he's going to go?"

The answer was faster than Adam could have ever imagined. The trip was a whirl of colors that bled together into such an unrecognizable picture that Adam wondered how Superman could possibly see where they were going. A deafening wind bore down on him, hitting every inch of his body with a pressure so intense it almost hurt. When they finally stopped Adam decided with very firm resolve that he was driving back to Dakota.

"That was sort of cool," Virgil mumbled.

"No it wasn't," Adam said bending over and fighting the urge to vomit. He had never been so grateful that his own power kept him safely on the ground. Pulling himself back together, he straightened up and took a look around.

He didn't know where they were, but it looked like no hospital Adam had ever been in, and he'd been in quite a few. The room was big enough to have held Dakota Union High's gym. The ceiling was high, the room wide and clean with a cement floor and white painted walls. There was a vending machine, fridge and coffee pot stowed away in the furthest corner of the room with a large square table and five chairs resting in the middle of it. The walls to his left and right were both made of glass, and through them Adam could see the beginnings of two large green houses. Straight ahead was a set of double doors.

Superman had laid Ritchie out on a long gurney, and an aged Hispanic woman in a long white lab coat was bent over him. There were deep lines around the woman's mouth, and crow's feet around the eyes that were focused on Ritchie. Standing across from her was a much younger Indian man who couldn't have been out of his late 20's.

"Ankit," the woman said shining a small pen light into Ritchie's eyes. "Go get Dr. Kumar. Then find Jenny and send her up here."

"Right Dr. Cruz," the young man said taking off down the hall at a jog.

"You," she said pointing one wrinkled hand at Virgil. "Is he allergic to anything?"

"No," Virgil answered.

"When did you find him?"

"Early this morning, but he's been missing since Friday."

Clicking the light off, the old woman slid the stethoscope that hung around her neck under Ritchie's hoodie, pausing to listen to the boy's rapid heartbeat.

"Any idea when the drug was administered?"

Virgil shook his head. "No, not really."

Quick footsteps brought a thin young woman with short curly red hair to the doctor's side.

"Jenny," Dr. Cruz said removing the earpieces and allowing the bell to rest against her chest once again. "Help me wheel him in."

Adam watched as the two women maneuvered the gurney across the room, disappearing behind the double doors. Virgil made a move to follow, but Adam put a hand on his shoulder.

"I think we're going to have to hang out here," Adam said gently.

A middle aged Indian woman, her dark black hair drawn into a neat pony tail that bounced in time with her quick pace marched briskly past them. Ankit trailed behind her. She slipped through the doors after Dr. Cruz and Jenny without acknowledging the three superheroes, but Ankit paused just before entering.

"Dr. Kumar says you three should wait over there," he said motioning to the table. "She also says to tell you 'hello' Superman. She apologizes for not being able to greet you properly."

"Of course," Superman said sincerely.

The younger man disappeared behind the doors.

"Come on Virgil," Adam said steering the younger boy towards the corner. "Let's go get you some coffee."


	11. Poppies

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, Aden, Carlos, Dr. Kumar, Dr. Cruz, Jenny and Ankit however do belong to me.

Authors Note: Let it never be said that one person cannot spork another person into action. Ok, first off. I don't believe in posting something that has multiple chapters, and never finishing it. As a reader and a writer it drives me insane. So no matter what happens I will finish this story, (I have most of it worked out in my head), it just may take me a while. Between school and work I'm lucky to find the time to sleep and eat let alone write. But one way or another this will get finished. That I promise you. Until then I hope you'll enjoy chapter eleven.

Part 11

To his horror, Virgil found that Adam had not been kidding about the coffee. Immediately after he'd collapsing into the nearest chair, Adam had wordlessly set a paper cup full the steaming dark liquid in front of him then made a b-line for the fridge. Reaching across the table, Virgil plucked a small, pink package of Sweet'N Low out of the basket that sat in the center. Tearing the top off, he dumped its countenance into the paper cup sitting in front of him, and sloshed the black liquid around a bit for good measure.

"Oh, yeck," he said after taking a tentative sip. Staring down at the cup, Virgil sighed and reached for another package.

Adam slid into the seat across from him, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other. Eyeing the growing collection of empty, rolled-up pink packages he gave Virgil a shrewd look. "There have got to be at least fifteen packages of Sweet'N Low in that thing by now."

Virgil shrugged, and tore the top off another package. "There are seventeen, and it still taste like you boiled a gym shoe in it. How do you and Sharon drink this crud everyday?"

Adam blew over the top of his drink and flashed Virgil a grin. "I guess it really is more of a grown-up drink. If you want I can try to find you some hot coco. Glass of milk maybe?"

Crumpling the paper package in his hand, Virgil scowled. "It's fine." Tossing the package to the ground he picked up the cup. He grimaced and took another sip. It may have tasted like warm mud, but he was on his last limb and desperately needed the caffeine.

_Maybe some of those little cream things will make it semi-bearable_,he thought doubtfully.

Adam gave him a look over the top of his cup. "You're going to pick-up all that trash later, right?"

"What kind of superhero would I be if I went around littering the building that belong to the people saving my best friend?" Virgil snapped back. "One of us has to uphold the dignity and honor that comes with being a defender of justice, and since you're stealing someone's sack lunch right now, it looks like it'll have to be me."

He was beginning to think it was fated that he and Adam be left alone in situations where there was nothing to do but wait, and have painfully snarky conversations with one another. Superman had pulled out a few moments ago to patrol Metropolis, and now he had no one to distract him from Adam either.

The other meta-human rolled his eyes and took a bite out of a thick sandwich. "Whatever you say oh attractor of socks," he mumbled in-between chews. Swallowing, Adam whipped his mouth of the back of his sleeve. "By the way, I think it's time for you to give me that little explanation."

Virgil set the cup down in front of him. "What do you want explained?" he asked. "I can't tell you much."

"Oh, you know," Adam said with a wave of his hand. "The basics: _Who? What? Where? When? Why?_ I'd appreciate it if you started with the, _Where?_"

"We're somewhere outside of Metropolis," Virgil said. "Some sort of lab. I don't know much about this place, except that they know a hell of a lot about the Lethe that was shot into Ritchie. Some reporter friend of Superman's actually did a whole article about it last year when the drug first showed up." He paused. "I think he said his name was Clark or something like that." He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, it only got so much attention because some big-wig's son shot up and got sick. This place was researching it and was able to help him out. Unfortunately, since Leteh wasn't a big problem everyone forgot about it when a bigger problem came up. It's apparently really rare, and Superman says he hadn't worried about it getting into other cities because it was so hard to find around here."

Virgil pointed in the direction of the double doors. "I don't know who those people are except that they run this place and the Big S said I could trust them. That gets the _Who?_ out of the way. You all ready know the _What?_, and the _Why?_ and as for the _When?_." He looked down at his watch. "It is now 8:28 P.M. on Saturday, October 21. Are we all nice and happy now?"

Adam nodded. "You know Sharon's right. You are grumpy when you're tired. You think you'd never pulled an all nighter before."

"Try two all nighters," Virgil groaned.

Adam shot him a surprised look. "Say what?"

"The night Ritchie disappeared I only got about an hours worth of sleep before the sister from the Black Lagoon woke me up. I didn't get any sleep that night at your apartment, and I spent the rest of the day flying to Metropolis."

"You mean to tell me you've been using your powers at full blast for two days, and running without sleep," Adam asked in disbelief.

"You know Adam, I love it when you feel the need recap my very simple explanations," Virgil responded.

"Bet you haven't eaten anything either," Adam accused waving the half eaten sandwich at him.

"Well, no."

"Kid," Adam said in an exasperated voice. Leaning over he plucked the cup out of Virgil's hands. "You should know better then to wipe yourself out like."

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked.

Shouldering off his jacket, Adam handed it over to Virgil and stood. "You see this jacket?"

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

Adam pointed to the wall. "You see that nice clean looking corner?"

"Yes."

"You're going to be taking this jacket, and walking over to that corner and sleeping."

Virgil moved to protest. "But-"

"No, you were idiotic enough to drain yourself like this. I'm surprised you're still able to form sentences right now, and you're no good to me if you pass out." When it looked as though Virgil was going to continue his protests, Adam sighed. "If they come out to tell us anything about Ritchie, I'll wake you up, I promise."

Grudgingly, Virgil stood and accepted Adam's jacket. Sleep sounded like such a good idea, that he was willing to ignore the fact that he was following orders from Adam. Stretching out across the hard floor, he bundled Adam's jacket into a ball to use as a pillow, laid his head down and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later, a warm hand on his shoulder woke him. Rolling over, Virgil blinked groggily at the olive skinned woman standing over him.

"You need to get up now," Dr. Kumar said.

"Is something wrong?" Virgil asked shaking the cobwebs from his mind as he sat up. "What time is it?"

"Not as of right now, and it's almost 11:30 p.m.," she told him. Grabbing his hand in hers Dr. Kumar helped him to his feet. "Walk through that door against the wall. It will take you through the greenhouse and into another hallway. There's a bathroom on your left."

Nodding, Virgil walked across the room, then through the door. He was engulfed by an uncomfortable humidity as he made his way through the greenhouse; a variety of earthy, wet smells wafting under his nose. The hallway was cooler and darker, and the abrupt change in temperature helped clear his head and wake him up. In the bathroom he removed his mask, and splashed water over his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was pretty sure he was getting a zit on his chin, but the nap had helped a great deal. Running a quick hand through his hair, Virgil pulled his mask back on and headed out.

As he walked through the greenhouse for the second time, Virgil took a closer look at his surroundings. The room stretched out on either side of him with the ceiling and walls made of a thick glass and a gray cement floor. More plants than he could hope to identify with only a years worth of biology under his belt covered every available space. Most of them were green in color, but he thought he could make out a few more exotic looking plants hidden further in the back. He didn't stop to investigate.

Both Adam and Dr. Kumar were seated at the table when he got back. Adam looked as though he'd just been told that Sharon was breaking up with him, and he didn't meet Virgil's eye. The doctor waved him into the empty seat.

"Please Static, sit down." She'd poured herself a cup of coffee, and she took a small sip of it before continuing. "Adam and I were just having a nice chat."

"About what exactly," Virgil asked suspiciously shooting Adam a glare.

"Static," Dr. Kumar said. "What exactly do you know about heroin?"

"Not too much," Virgil admitted. "Why?"

Dr. Kumar folded her hands over the table - top. "Do you know what acute intoxication is?"

"No."

"It's when the body has received the maximum dose of heroin that it can tolerate," she began. "Respiration will slow down, sometime to the point where a person's toes and finger tips will turn blue, and there pulse can become very slow. In a very extreme case, a person may fall into a coma and possibly die."

Virgil nodded, confused but attentive.

"Adam tells me that Ritchie was showing many of these symptoms when you first found him, and that you argued over whether or not you should take him to a hospital," she continued. "Now, I am aware that you are inexperienced when it comes to dealing with most illegal drugs. I am aware that you are still very young, and that the drug found in your friend's system was not heroin. However, I am also aware that Lethe is one of the rarest drugs in the United States right now, and if I had been asked prior to this meeting whether or not a person exhibiting these symptoms was most likely to be under the influence of Lethe or acute intoxication due to heroin, I would have put my money on heroin." She paused to take a sip of her coffee. "In short, it's a miracle that you're friend is not dead. So let me say this. The next time you feel the need to hold someone's reputation at higher value than their physical well being, I'd like you to remember that while a reputation can be remade it's not always the case with a human life, you stupid kids."

Virgil sat in a stunned silence, feeling as though all the air had been knocked out of him with one swift blow. Dr. Kumar took a long look at the two of them, and her expression softened. "That being said, I'd also like to say that what's done is done. You can't change what happened, and you did get him some help." She gave Virgil a pointed look. "I would also suggest that you learn to trust your instincts."

Dr. Kumar calmly sipped coffee, surrounded by a patient air, while both Virgil and Adam sat with identical looks of guilt etched across their faces each of them waiting for the other to speak. Virgil expected that the three of them would have permanently stayed that way if another voice had not chimed in.

"I see we're playing good doctor bad doctor again, Shivangi." Dr. Cruz came next to the younger woman's chair. "I never do get to play bad doctor."

Dr. Kumar smiled. "It's because I'm much better at striking fear into the hearts of others." Standing, she gave the two boys a nod. "Well, I've said my peace, and I'm sure Dr. Cruz would like her turn to speak." She frowned suddenly. "I am going to go make sure that Jenny and Ankit haven't killed one another yet."

"She really is nicer than she seems," Dr. Cruz said as Dr. Kumar departed.

"Oh, sure," Adam said. "Just a bit rough around the edges, right?"

She nodded. "Exactly. Now, you must be wondering about you're friend." Pulling a chair out, she slowly eased herself into the seat.

"Is he going to be ok?" Virgil asked.

"The drug is being purged from his system," Dr. Cruz responded. "Unfortunately, whether he'll be "ok" is still uncertain."

"Why?" Virgil asked.

Dr. Cruz sighed. "The problem with Lethe is that it's a very new drug. The catastrophe about Lethe is that we can't pin point exactly what component makes Lethe, Lethe."

Adam, shook his head. "I'm not following."

Dr. Cruz stood, several of her joints making verbal protests against the action.

"Of course not. Follow me and I'll do my best to explain."

Virgil followed Dr. Cruz across the room and into the greenhouse he'd passed through moments before, Adam trailing behind.

The hot sticky air made Virgil shift in his costume as he followed the Hispanic woman down several aisles of plants. He shifted his eyes from his leaders white coated back to the cement floor stepping around bags of earth, water hoses and dodging a variety of long reaching plant life.

"Here we are," Dr. Cruz mumbled to herself, stopping in front of a tall door. She opened it and motioned the two of them to follow. The air in the new room was cooler, and Virgil shivered at the sudden change of temperature. In front of him was a long corridor full of tables. Sitting on top of each table was a long trough of sorts, each full of rich black earth. Growing in each of these troughs was a dark red flower.

"We have to give the poppies their own room," Dr. Cruz said plucking one of the many blood red flowers that sat quite comfortably in bed of soil across the tables in front of them. "They only like to grow in cooler temperatures. The soil has to be kept at around 60-65 degrees F. I've gotten them to germinate at 80 degrees F as well, but they don't like it very much." She opened her hand, displaying the flower under Virgil's nose. "Papaverus Somniferum or the sleep poppy. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The only place Virgil had ever seen a poppy was on screen during the Wizard Of Oz. No one in his house had much time or interest in gardening, but even he couldn't deny the beauty of the delicate red plant in front of him. He nodded.

Pulling the flower back to her chest, Dr. Cruz slipped her free hand into her front breast pocket. It came out holding a scalpel. "I'm sure Dr. Kumar told you about the comparison many like to make between Lethe and heroin?"

"Yeah," Virgil said dryly. "She touched on that somewhere in between ripping our souls out and eating them."

"The reason everyone loves making that comparison," she continued. "Is because heroin is Lethe's mother, and the two of them are both a part of the same drug filled family."

Lifting the flower into the light, Dr. Cruz squinted, and pushed the tip of the scalpel into the pod resting at the very center of the poppy. Once it was inserted, she dragged the scalpel down its side. The cut began to ooze a whitish substance that dripped onto her fingers.

Virgil leaned in to get a better look.

"If this substance were dried, if all the water were passed out of it, it would form a brown sticky gum. The gum would be what we call opium. From opium we can extract morphine, and then morphine can be converted into heroin." She paused. "It sounds simpler that it really is, but I'm giving you the short version. Now, none of the junkies you meet on our fine city streets buy pure heroin. Heroin gets passed from it's producer, to a series of middle man who all cut a little bit out of what they're given and then mix in a variety of interesting products."

"Yeah, I know how that works," Adam grumbled.

"Now, lets say someone had some heroin," Dr. Cruz continued. "And along with cutting it down and mixing it with, oh let's say baking powder, they mixed in a third component. This third component caused a reaction in the drug, and created an entirely new product. The new product would be Lethe. The problem is I don't know what that product is. Dr. Kumar and I've been studying it since last year, as well as trying to recreate it, but it's like searching for a needle in a haystack. There could be any number of combinations, and until I know the precise formula I can't get a clear picture of all the side effects happening in the body that I can't see. Not only that, but whoever 'cut' the Lethe given to your friend added something to it that is causing even more unknown side effects then before."

Placing both scalpel and flower onto the table, the older woman suddenly looked very tired.

"I'm not sure whether your friend will ever be completely alright, I can't give you a 'yes' or a 'no.' For all we know a side effect may show up years down the road. The only thing I can tell you is that we can keep him alive if nothing else. He should wake up within the next day or so, he'll be as weak as a kitten, but alive."

At the word "alive" Virgil felt himself release the breath he'd been holding. In Virgil's book, as long as you were alive there were chances and possibilities. Ritchie had chances and possibilities. Only when you were dead did it mean you were out of options. Well, at least it did in most circles.


	12. Cold Winter

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, Aden, Carlos, Dr. Kumar, Dr. Cruz, Jenny and Ankit however do belong to me.

Author's Note: Finally, finally, FINALLY! I have found the time to update this story. :weeps with joy: Ok, It's been forever, and I apologize for making this chapter so short, but the juicy stuff is coming up. Former Girl Scout's honor.

Part 12

Derrick considered card games to be the ultimate metaphors for life. Luck was just as important as skill in any card game, in more dangerous hands, a straight poker face could be what got your ass out of the fire, and in order to play a good game you had to know just what each of the cards in your hand was capable of. Derrick took each of these lessons to heart, but it was the last one that had proven to be the most valuable. Just like Derrick knew his cards, he made sure to know his people. What they wanted, who they wanted, what they feared, where they had been, where they hoped to go if they truly ever wanted to go anywhere. Past. Present. Future. When it came to his people he had an understanding of it all. There was one member though, that he had found himself making a small exception for.

Considering that his gang consisted of people who had epithets like thief, druggy, drop-out, delinquent and menace to society attached to their names, Derrick had expected a few skeletons to appear when he went digging into their pasts. With Aden, he had discovered a lot more than just a few and each of them had names Derrick wanted no association with whispering from their dead lips. He'd stopped digging for information on Aden Burk for fear of eventually becoming a part of what was quickly adding up to be a mass grave. He wasn't exactly sure what business Aden's family was in. Stolen cars, drug running, the mafia it could have been one or all of the above, and for the first time in his short life Derrick had been content to not know too many of the details. Which was why when he decided that his crew would pull out of Dakota for a while, and Aden said he knew someone who could help them out, he'd been reluctant to accept the offer. Especially after Aden had told him who they were going to see.

_The Green Dragon_, one of Dakota's many bars, was remarkably clean, and remarkably empty. It was 1:38 in the morning, but even the drunks had cleared out. The chairs at each of the round wooden tables had already been put up, and the neon green sign hanging above the bar was off. The bar tender, a young man with close shaved brown hair, gave them a calculating look as they entered, but after seeing Aden did nothing more than shrugged and hopped over the bar. Ignoring them, he strode over to the only occupied table in the room, sliding into the seat next to a skinny black haired woman who peered at the two of them over the top of what looked to be a biology textbook. Quickly dismissing them as unimportant, she went back to studying.

Aden gave the girl a lazy grin, and leaving Derrick's side sauntered over to her. Both the young man and the thin girl gave Aden an annoyed look as he moved to sit in the remaining chair.

"Aden," a voice from the opposite end of the bar snapped. "Leave pretty Kitty alone. She's busy making something of herself. Something my bum of a nephew seems to be incapable of."

Aden turned, and grinning in the direction of the voice. "Why do you have to be so mean to me Aunt Winter?"

"Because you're acting like an ass, and your mother is not here to reprimand you. Come over here. Bring your friend."

Winter was at a table in the back playing a game of Solitaire. Derrick had only met her once before, about two years ago, and she hadn't changed much since then. Derrick had never asked whether or not Aden and Winter were really blood related. They looked nothing alike. Aden was huge, red haired and looked as though he deserved to be standing in a locker room in some far off University preparing for a football game. An easy going guy, he was still large enough to make anyone think twice before messing with him. Winter on the other hand, looked almost cuddly. Her hair was long, dark brown, curly and fell to the middle of her back. Her skin was clean and smooth, with a button nose and huge blue eyes Derrick had only thought existed on the faces of animated kittens peering up at people from a middle-aged face. When she stood her height couldn't have gone past 4'9, but very few people were allowed to comment on her height. Those that did in a less than respectful manner had a tendency of materializing in front of emergency room doors with a good portion of their legs missing. There was also something in her face that made people nervous. A long legged hardness, a black cruelty that shifted and scuttled across the skin, disappearing and then reappearing at a moments notice. Derrick did not want to wake that particular monster.

"What do you need?" Winter asked motioning for the two of them to sit down. People who came to see Winter knew that the first question was never, 'Why are you here?' People only came to see Winter when they needed something and she knew it.

"A way out of Dakota," Derrick responded. "Nothing that involves a train, bus or a plane."

If she was surprised that it was Derrick who had answered, and not Aden who the question had originally been addressed too she didn't let it show. In fact, when Winter looked up, there was amusement in her eyes. "Next time just say car. Why no planes, trains or buses?"

"I don't like large groups of people," Derrick answered coolly.

Winter shuffled the cards in her hand and began to deal out a new game of Solitaire. "Hey Joe," she suddenly called out. "Bring me three burgers. Two rare, one well done, and drown the cow on all of them."

The brown haired bartender in the corner stood, stretched and made his way to the kitchen.

Winter shook her head at the bar tender's retreating back. "I always tell him that he should get a tattoo or an earring. It would make him look more menacing, but he never listens."

Derrick said nothing. Aden squirmed a little in his seat.

"There are hundreds of cars in Dakota that you can steal," Winter said suddenly.

Derrick shook his head. "Stolen cars get reported."

"Plenty of cars you can go buy," she gave Derrick a sly glance. "If you've got the money of course."

Derrick felt his heart skip a beat. She knew. Somehow, this dangerous and short woman knew about his robberies.

"Come on Aunt Winter," Aden pleaded. "I know you've got something. Do it for me. Do if for mom."

Winter gave the cards in her hand a glance.

"I might have something. Not for free of course. But still something."

Derrick had been waiting for this. If she asked for money he could, and would give it to her. It was if she asked for favors that the game was going to get tricky.

"I'll give you a car," Winter said slowly laying her cards down. "No strings attached. But you will have to do one thing for me."

"What's that?" Derrick asked his muscles tense.

"Aden has to go visit his mother."

Aden startled. "What?"

"You are going to home and visit my sister, Mr. I'm too busy to visit the woman who gave birth to me. I will give you a car. You will stop by and stay for no less than four, are you listening to me Aden? Four days. During that time you will go out to dinner, and a movie of her choosing. You will not use any drugs during this visit, you will not touch one drop of alcohol, and at the end of four days my sister will call me, and tell me all about the wonderful visit she had with her very favorite middle son."

"Aunt Winter," Aden protested.

"Those are my terms," Winter said. "They are very, very generous terms."

To Derrick, they were more than generous. They were unbelievable.

Aden humped then nodded.

Winter smiled. A large beaming one that reminded Derrick of sharpened knifes and dead dreams. "Good to hear. Now, don't look so glum Aden. Metropolis is very lovely this time of year."

There was no moon out that night, and only a cluster of the strongest stars watched over Virgil as he hovered a good fifty feet about the glass greenhouse that held row, after row of red poppy plants. Sitting cross-legged, on top of his bored, he removed his mask to let the cool autumn breeze wash over his face. In the distance, Virgil could see the skyline of Metropolis. The lights, stronger and brighter than any star, shown red, yellow, green and black colors into his eyes. It's steady nighttime pulse making them throb. It was as though all you needed to do was run your hand over any building in the city to feel the horrible, beautiful, painful life pounding through it.

Dakota, though a somewhat smaller city, had the same rhythm and pulse running through it as this Metropolis did. It was what made Virgil love it so much, and it was these feelings that cause translucent realizations appear in the back of his mind. Thoughts that let him know that if he really wanted to make sure poison didn't start clogging up his city's life veins, drowning and killing the people who lived off it, he was going to have to stick around Dakota and fight the good fight. Maybe until college; maybe forever. At 15, those thoughts made him nervous and unsure. Normally, he did his best to ignore them, but tonight he wished for them. They were an old worry, and a comfortable one.

It was late, almost two in the morning, and even though patrolling usually kept Virgil up until at least three or four a.m. he still, out of a habits created in life his pre-Static, labeled any hour after midnight as "late." There was nothing for him to do now. As soon as Dr. Cruz had finished with them, Adam had stolen Virgil's coat, curled up in the corner and fallen fast asleep.

_"Wake me up if anything changes_," he'd called to Virgil his voice thick and tired.

Dr. Cruz had disappeared back behind the large steel double doors where his friend now was. Virgil, who had tried to sleep and failed, was left with nothing to do but worry and turn over the bits of information Dr. Cruz had given him until he was too twitchy to sit. Going outside, and using some of his powers made him feel better.

"Hungry?"

The voice to his left made Virgil jolt his board back in panic, a path of electricity left in his wake. Jerking his head up, Virgil blinked at the sight of Superman floating a few feet away, a wrapped hamburger in his outstretch hand.

_Because my life just isn't weird enough, _Virgil thought.

"You have to stop sneaking up on me!" Virgil squeaked. "You're gunna give a brother a heart attack."

Superman looked amused. "I'll try. Do you want this. I imagine you haven't eaten for awhile."

Floating back to where the older hero flew, Virgil accepted the burger and after tearing the paper off practically attacked the meal.

"I see, I was right."

Virgil swallowed the last of the food and grinned sheepishly. "I've been sort of busy."

_Worrying about my best friend, wondering how much he forgot since he got a bad dose of that shit. Did he just forget days or did it affect any other memories or motor skills? _

The thought that the drug may have caused Ritchie to forget something as simple as how to tie his shoes, or hold a pencil was so depressing that Virgil had to shoved it violently away before it could do any permanent damage.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Superman said.

Virgil had never wanted to believe anyone more than he wanted to believe the Big S at that moment. The man's voice, his tone, the meaning behind the words all of it was so absolutely genuine and positive.

Batman would have said something like, "We'll have to wait and see" or "if he's forgotten more than you think he has, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it" or not said anything at all. To Virgil's outright horror, he found himself wishing for Batman's words. Not the ones full of hallow hope that Superman was handing him. Instead he just nodded, and said them himself.

"We'll see."


	13. Awake

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, Aden, Carlos, Dr. Kumar, Dr. Cruz, Jenny and Ankit however do belong to me.

Author's Note: Sorry for the long time space between chapters. I do however appreciate the one or two kicks in the pants a few of you sent my way ,

My school work is going to be kicking my ass this semester, so I can't promise an update too soon, but I will try. Again, huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed or enjoyed the story so far!

Part 13

The air was chilly and from what the weathermen had been chanting for the past week, the next few days weren't going to do much in the way of temperature change. Tracy hated the cold, and in an effort to warm herself up had pulled her arms into her coat so she could hug her body from underneath the clothes rubbing her hands up and down her sides. It wasn't working.

She always remembered Adam on mornings like these. Adam who had always felt warm, especially in the chilly months just before winter. Mornings when she'd woken up cold, she would roll over to his side of the bed and curl up next to him. It was what she missed about him. Not "missed about him the most" because to say that would mean there were multiple things she missed about the bang baby, and breaking up with Adam had, in her opinion, been the smartest thing she'd ever done. Still, she'd never stop missing the way the boy's body just seemed to generate heat.

A gust of wind caused her to drop her head and grit her teeth. Stepping over the remains of a broken beer bottle, Tracy picked up her pace, going into a trot. She had a block to go until she reached the Dakota Blood Center, and the quicker she moved the warmer she'd feel.

Derrick had returned to the warehouse, a sulking Aden in tow, only a few minutes before, marching past her and Carlos who had both been playing a rather weak game of Bullshit. It was Aden who delivered the news. They were leaving. They had three hours and then it was off to Metropolis. Anything that needed taking care of had to be done before they left, and yes _everyone_ was going with. Derrick would leave no evidence behind.

Tracy had no people to say good-bye too. A string of ex-boyfriends and family members she'd rather not see made up a good portion of her social circle, but she did have cash to collect. When on the run it was never a bad idea to have a good stack of bills shoved in your shoe, and she had plenty of it. She was good at what she did, and her cuts from the cash machine jobs had never been small, but the safest place for her cash was also in a place where she couldn't get at it at 3:55 in the morning. In the bank under her dead mother's name. It had taken more than a little hacking to make the bank think that Sarah Lee was in fact alive and well, but it had been worth knowing that her cash was securely being held in a locked vault. That and the irony of the bank guarding stolen money also gave her a fair amount of pleasure.

Hopping up the curve Tracy pushed open the clear glass door that led to the Blood Center, letting out a sigh of relief as the heat engulfed her.

"Hey," she said to the receptionist, a thin girl with black hair. "I'm here to open a vein for my fellow men and women."

Peering up from what looked to be a biology textbook, the girl nodded. The plastic nametag pinned to her shirt read "Kitty", and with a smile she handed Tracy a clipboard covered with forms Tracy could have filled out with her eyes closed.

"Have you done this before?" Kitty asked.

Tracy had been giving blood for as long as she could remember. Giving blood meant a free bag of cookies, a free can of juice and $50 upfront. The Dakota Blood Center was perfect for it because they were somewhat shady in their dealings, and would let just about anyone give. Back when she'd still been using, Tracy had given multiple times only hours after coming off of a heroin high, the drug still thrumming through her system, the cold after effects washing in. Whether they used her blood or not wasn't her problem. She'd never been reprimanded.

Tracy smiled. "A few times."

Kitty handed her the clipboard. "Then you already know that you need to fill these out. There are chairs right over there. When you're done bring the forms back here, and we'll get started."

Nodding, Tracy rolled up the flapping sleeves of her oversized black jacket and accepted the clipboard. While she bent over the familiar pink and yellow forms, Pretty Kitty slid her biology textbook to the side and picked up the phone dialing a number she knew by heart.

"Hello, Ms. Winter. We're about to get a deposit from our favorite client. Would you like to stop by or should I have The Blue One pick it up for you?"

* * *

It wasn't until he'd had a good five minutes of utter panic that Virgil realized his arms had not, as previously feared, fallen off in the middle of the night. After shaking the sleep from his head, and pushing away the lingering feelings of unease and fear that had surfaced in his dreams he realized that he'd fallen asleep with his head pillowed on his folded arms and they'd gone numb as a result. 

"You have a Sweet'N Low wrapper stuck to your forehead."

Startled, Virgil looked up to see Jenny, the redheaded woman he'd seen following Dr. Kumar standing in front of him.

"What?" he mumbled, disoriented from his awakening and distracted by his unfeeling appendages.

"On your forehead," Jenny said motioning to her own. "There's an empty package of Sweet'N Low stuck to it. You must have slept on it or something."

Virgil moved to brush it off and found he couldn't.

"Could you maybe take care of that?" he asked with embarrassment. "I'm a little off my game right now."

"Arms fall asleep on you?" the young woman asked.

"Yeah. What time is it?"

Leaning across the table Virgil had chosen as his temporary bed, she plucked the bright pink wrapper off of the teenager's head, shoving it into her pocket.

"That happens to me a lot too. Annoying as hell. It's almost eleven."

Nodding, Virgil flexed his fingers wincing at the sharp pins and needles that felt as though they were about to shoot through his skin.

"All better?" Jenny asked with a tired smile.

"Yeah," Virgil answered. "I'm fine now."

"Good, because Dr. Kumar wants to see you."

Virgil glanced around the room until he spotted the doctor pouring herself a cup of coffee and yawning.

Virgil swallowed. "Is everything alright?"

Rubbing her own sleep filled eyes, Jenny shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. You'll have to talk to her."

Three knots tied in his stomach as Virgil crossed the room. Crossing his arms over his chest, he took a deep breath, ready to face the news.

"Good morning Static," Dr. Kumar greeted, sipping her hot coffee. "Do you want a cup?"

"Is that every adult's solution to a problem?" Virgil responded in exasperation. "A cup of coffee?"

The Indian woman looked amused. "Of course not. Sometimes we drink hard liquor, but you're too young for that."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Is Ritchie ok?"

Pouring a package of sugar into her cup, Dr. Kumar swirled the drink around before taking a long pull of the hot liquid.

"Your friend is stable, the fever broke sometime last night. He's as weak as a small kitten, but physically he'll be fine in a few days. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to question him on exactly how much he remembers about anything or anyone. We probably won't even know the full extent until he starts walking around and discovers he can't remember how many quarters go into a dollar."

Virgil must have looked distressed, because her expression softened the tiniest bit.

"Though whether that will happen or not is still unknown," she added. "However, we can make sure he at least knows who certain people and places are, and since he's finally awake I want you to go in there and talk to him."

Virgil felt as if every muscle in his body had suddenly loosened up. "He's awake."

"Yes, yes awake," Dr. Kumar said impatiently. "But we still don't know what kind of memory damage we're looking at." Putting her cup down on the counter, Dr. Kumar wiped her hands off on her coat and started towards the doors. "Now follow me."

The hallway behind the double doors was lined with clear plexiglass windows, each one looking into a variety of different rooms. The ones up front seemed to be filled with pieces of expensive looking lab equipment, and Virgil caught sight of Dr. Cruz flanked by Ankit leaning over a microscope in one of them. Other rooms were filled with even more examples of green foliage, and one had what looked to be cages of white mice. The last three rooms at the end of the hall each held a bed, each room ready for a patient. Ritchie was at the very last one at the end of the hall.

"Both Dr. Cruz and I have already checked on him," Dr. Kumar said. "So you'll go in alone. Don't tire him, because he's going to tire easily right now. Don't shake him up, but get as much information as you can. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Virgil answered, the knots in his stomach retying themselves into shapes any Boy Scout would have been proud of.

"Good." Turning the doorknob she motioned for Virgil to enter.

Ritchie was lying underneath a good deal of blankets, an IV needled into his arm. He looked paler than Virgil had ever seen him, the darkening bruise across his jaw an ugly contrast. The rope burns on his wrists were pink and angry under the lights, and his fingers twitched a bit as Virgil watched. Ritchie's eyes were closed, and at first Virgil was afraid he was still asleep, that Dr. Kumar had been wrong. Sliding into the chair that someone had left next to the bed, Virgil rested his elbows on his knees, his hands running through his hair. He felt like he was two steps away from a nervous breakdown. Thankfully, he raised his head to find Ritchie looking back at him.

"Hey Virgil," he said, his voice weak and scratchy.

"Hey Ritch. How ya feeling?"

"Cold," the other boy answered. "Tired, and really cold."

Virgil moved to stand. "Do you want me to find another blanket?"

"Naw. S'ok."

Virgil nodded and leaned back in his chair.

"Hey Virgil."

"Yeah man?"

"Where the hell are we?"


	14. Whole new problem

Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock is the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, Aden, Carlos, Dr. Kumar, Dr. Cruz, Jenny and Ankit however do belong to me.

Author's Note: Ya know, I never expected this thing to get this long. I'm thinking a few more chapters and I should be able to wrap it up…I hope. Once again thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this fic so far and taken the time to comment. Remember, this is set before Ritchie was Gear…well before he knew he was a Bang Baby anyway.

Part 14

"We're in a research lab a few miles outside of Metropolis." Virgil answered. "Superman flew us out here."

There were a few beats of silence.

"What?" Ritchie asked.

"It's a really long story," Virgil said. "And I'll tell you all of it as soon as you answer a few questions for me."

He ran through the basics first. Who are you? Who am I? Parent's first names, mother's maiden name, name and description of mother's new husband, Adam, Adam's powers, the Big Bang, Mr. Hawkins, Sharon. Who's the vice president?

"It's still Cheney right?" Ritchie asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Oh, damn."

When that was over and done with, he moved on to questions about the past. How old had he been when he met Virgil? When did his mother move away? What was the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

"African or European_?"_

From there it was onto the random questions, which proved little to no help in easing Virgil's worries.

"How do you make a cheese omelet, Ritchie?"

"I have no idea."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever made one before?"

"I don't think so. Why would I have made a cheese omelet before?"

"I don't know!"

"Virgil why are you asking me all of these questions?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. Now, tell me if you know how to order a pizza."

Somewhere in between trying to discover if his friend remembered how to shift the gears on his bike he noticed Ritchie carefully sitting up and in a rather pathetic attempt at movement trying to twist his body around.

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked, standing up and hovering uncertainly.

"I am reaching behind my back, so that I can grab one of the pillows that I know I'm leaning against," Ritchie responded in breathless and practical voice. "Once I have it, I'm going to throw it at you in a desperate attempt to make the questions stop."

Virgil stopped in mid-hover and had the decency to look sheepish.

"Now," Ritchie continued. "Do I have to brain you to death, or are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Sitting back down, Virgil held his hands up in surrender. "Naw man, put the weapon down. I'll tell you everything."

It was a longer story than Virgil, who had lived through the whole thing in real time, remembered. He started in a rush, hoping to get it all out in one telling before Ritchie fell back asleep. By the end, he was taking it slower though, trying to remember all of the important details. When his last word on the subject of the last few days had been delivered he wiped the sweat that had unknowingly collected across his forehead in the cool room,

Ritchie, forced to squint due to the loss of his glasses, nodded at the end of the recap took a deep breath and asked one question, just to make sure he had one of the more important facts down.

"Three days?"

"Yeah," Virgil said. "That's what the doctors told me."

"And I might have forgotten other things too?"

"Maybe?"

"How will I know if I don't know them if I can't remember knowing them in the first place?" Ritchie asked his voice going up a notch.

"What?" Virgil asked, trying to follow his friend but failing.

Ritchie took a few deep breaths trying to calm him self down. "You don't think I did anything important in the last three days, do you? Like, I don't know, fail a test or lose my virginity?"

Virgil grinned, "No, I think your GPA and your V card are still intact."

Ritchie rubbed his hands over his face. "That's good, well not the second thing, but no yeah that's good."

"You ok?" Virgil asked. He was getting rather sick of that question.

"Not really," Ritchie said. "I mean along with feeling like the football team just trampled over me, I've apparently been through a rather traumatic experience that I can't remember. I kinda want to go back to sleep."

"I'd rather you didn't," came a voice from the doorway.

Both Virgil and Ritchie turned to see Dr. Kumar, flanked by Adam, enter the room.

"I want to check a few of your vitals first," she said, stepping around Virgil. "And this one," she nodded in Adam's direction, "wanted a look at you. But yes, when I'm done I think it would be wise if you went back to sleep."

Pulling a stethoscope around her neck, she placed the ear buds into her ears and asked Ritchie to unbutton the too large shirt they'd dressed him in.

"You should go back to the main room, Static," Dr. Kumar said her eyes still on Ritchie.

"There's food and Superman wants to speak with you."

Virgil nodded. "Ok. I'll be back, bro. Don't go anywhere on me."

"Where am I going to go?" Ritchie asked with a chuckle. "You're my ride home."

With one final eye roll, and a shoulder punch to Adam, Virgil stepped out of the room.

When the door had slid shut, and a firm look from Dr. Kumar had stopped Ritchie's squirming, Adam leaned against the empty chair and let out a long breath.

"Man," he said. "I am so glad this is over."

Surprised, Ritchie glanced at Adam.

"I'm sorry," the blond teenager said. "Do I know you?"

* * *

The car wasn't new, but it wasn't old either. Dark blue in color it was inconspicuous in that there was nothing shiny or flashy about it, and factoring out emergencies it wouldn't break down somewhere along the road. Derrick approved of it the moment he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Tracy had appeared moments after Derrick's final inspection of the car had taken place, and without a word stumbled into the backseat with a rather woozy look on her face, chose her seat, pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, and fell asleep. Aden came next, a suspiciously new backpack hanging over one shoulder. He'd tried to make a move for the front seat, shouting "shotgun," but Derrick had snapped at him, and shoved him to the back. Derrick had turned towards the front seat, still swearing at Aden, when he noticed Carlos was already in the car and in the process of buckling his seat belt. He pushed the seat as far back as it would go to give his long legs enough room to stretch out, then went searching for a map. He was, and always had been, acting navigator for any of their out of the way excursions. 

They'd been on the road for about half a day, cruising the highways, pulling off at marked exits, and trying to remember where Rt 55 tuned into RT 355, before Tracy finally woke up. Hearing a noise besides Aden's snoring or Carlos' grumbling as he glared at the map, he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Tracy draw her hood away from her face.

"Give blood again?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tracy said with a yawn.

"Always wipes you out."

"Yeah, I guess. Hey we there yet?"

"Naw," Derrick responded. "Got another day on the road."

"Oh, yay," Tracy grumbled. "Nothing I love more than being stuck in a car with the three of you. Jesus, Carlos does your seat have to be all the way back? I can hardly move."

Carlos calmly flashed her the finger before pointing out the window to his left.

"Get off here," Carlos said, looking up from the map. "This exit, then we're on 355 for like an hour."

Flipping on the turn signal, Derrick nodded and moved off the lane of fast moving traffic and onto the exit ramp.

"Hey, Derrick, nothing in this agreement with Winter said we have to hang around with Aden while he has family time, right?" Tracy asked.

"It better not," Carlos grumbled from the front. "Those people are crazy."

"We separate from him once we get to Metropolis," Derrick answered. "We'll meet up with him later, and I'm thinking we'll be spending a few more weeks in this town before heading out. I'm gunna need you idiots to be on your toes. Tracy, you're the only one who knows Metropolis. Can you get us around?"

"Been a while since I've been back," Tracy said crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back into her seat.

"How long?"

"Two, maybe three years. I left right after my mom died."

"Can you find us some place to stay?" Derrick asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Tracy said. "Sure."


End file.
